About the author
This collection starts off with an ache that pulls a reader in uncontrollably with sorrow and beauty. It is a tremendous manuscript that begs to be read over and over. Organic in the purest sense. Anyone encountering these poems will be stunned.
Sarah Carey makes many gracious accommodations to family, to the inevitable losses in an ordinary life, and to the idea of home in all its human dimensions in this intelligent, sensitive, and generous collection. She meditates on “the long valediction” of a fully lived life and comes to artful terms with the repercussions of love and mortality in poems that ring true and resonate. Breathe the slow wind, she writes, another storm is always coming. We know it in our bones, and we see it again and again in these lovely measures.
Every one of Sarah Carey’s poems is taut, tense, terse, tough. And close to tiny: most are within a line or two of half a page. In that sense, they’re like those little candles some people put around their houses, lighting up everything that’s true and beautiful and sometimes scary about domestic life. Oh, and one more thing about these poems: they’re terrific.