With my sweetie and he could be the real dad … Shaking our heads like we couldn’t believe it,Īnd having survived Don wanted a child to love,Īnd we made plans that I might make the baby Swirling the biscuits in their oily syrup,ĭon occasionally poking his fork into the air for emphasis, … when he said at breakfast I’m a survivor, I survived, Those biscuits seem to feed the narrative as well, an unspooling memory in which micro-detail and assessment carry the same weight: The remarkable non-stop elegy “spoon” centers on “Don” who, eight months before the telling, is said to have stumbled into the poet’s house for a breakfast of sweet potato biscuits after a birthday party next door the previous night. Ross Gay’s poems often take and exhaust many breaths before everything that must be said has burst out. Model City by Donna Stonecipher (Shearsman Books)īottles The Bottles The Bottles The Bottles by Lee Upton (Cleveland State University Poetry Center)Ĭatalog of Unabashed Gratitude by Ross Gay Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude by Ross Gay (University of Pittsburgh Press)
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