My love for reading poetry did not come about from my childhood of always having a book in my hand, under my desk, or beneath the covers late at night. It also didn’t come about from my degree in the Humanities. It came about from teaching middle school language arts for almost 20 years, with a unit on poetry each year for 7th and 8th grades.
How can you not love poetry when you act out “O Captain! My Captain!” by Walt Whitman in a room full of adolescents who have just come in from PE and the mixture of boy sweat and Axe are just about to overtake you. You watch their eyes flit across the room, making contact with their friends, as it suddenly dawns on them that there is no ship, there is no captain, there is no deck with “bleeding drops of red.” There is no better way to teach the extended metaphor or elegy or allegory. It is how my love of poetry first came about.
I Was a First Alto in the 1980s: Poems is a slim, 80-page volume, to be published March 16, 2027, by Random House, and it was just the tonic I needed after coming down off a book hangover, having read all eight volumes of the Emma M. Lion series by Beth Brower.
A fair amount of my reading life is supplied to me by NetGalley, and Garrison’s book of poetry was no exception. I first learned of her third book of poetry via Instagram, and one line in that Random House post sent me immediately to NetGalley to request it. Considering Elizabeth Strout is my most favorite author and Ann Patchett is, well, Ann Patchett, I knew I would love Garrison’s book.
And, yes, I did love it. The title alone sent me on a long trip down memory lane, as I was first clarinet in my high school band. My band director was among my most favorite teachers of all time (tied in first place with my English teacher Mrs. Swindell, of course). Mr. Ledet taught me so much that I’ve carried throughout my life: discipline, timing, the quest for perfection, listen first and talk second, good posture, and how to correct my issue with marching “left footed.”
In “1988 (The Gamble),” Garrison writes about the kitten found outside her apartment door one morning. Having lived with cats for most of my life, this short poem brought back so many memories of Princess, Pencil, Muffin, Mozart, and Smokey, and how I loved those little fur balls.
Garrison’s poem “I Love a Hospital” made my heart crack open just a little, even though it has now been almost 20 years since I watched my own mother slowly slip away from me. One quote in particular brought me to tears:
I love being
Still
For maybe a few more weeks
The daughter of a mother.
And then a bit later in the same poem:
I never want to leave,
Because you’re still here.
You’re gripping my hand.
I did not know of Deborah Garrison before NetGalley gifted me this collection of poems. She has two previously published collections, A Working Girl Can’t Win and The Second Child, and I can’t wait to read them as well.
Thank you NetGalley and Random House for this lovely book of poetry.
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