Shy’s first full-length collection features poems about relationships. Spouses, ex-lovers, parents and children. The poems flow well, authentic tones. An achievement, considering many of the pieces are persona poems. “Writing from somebody else’s POV other than my own, forces me to stretch,” Shoshauna said in a recent online interview. “However, in every poem, there’s some element of ‘truth’ that can be traced to my own life. I read in the papers that a friend’s son bought six cans of spray paint at Menards before he got busted for graffiti, and that instigated ‘The Sound Of Spite’s Name.’”
What The Postcard Didn’t Say. By Shoshauna Shy 2007; 104pp; Paperback;Zelda Wilde Publishing, 315 Water Street, Cambridge, WI 53523. $11.95 Reviewed by Michael Kriesel
This review was kindly forwarded by Charles Ries, thanks Charles! Michael Kriesel is a widely-published poet and reviewer. His reviews are in each issue of Small Press Review, and in Library Journal. His poems have appeared in over 200 journals including Nimrod, Rosebud, Bitter Oleander and The Progressive. Find out more about Michael Kriesel by going to: http://www.bookthatpoet.com/poets/krieselm.html
Shy’s first full-length collection features poems about relationships. Spouses, ex-lovers, parents and children. The poems flow well, authentic tones. An achievement, considering many of the pieces are persona poems. “Writing from somebody else’s POV other than my own, forces me to stretch,” Shoshauna said in a recent online interview. “However, in every poem, there’s some element of ‘truth’ that can be traced to my own life. I read in the papers that a friend’s son bought six cans of spray paint at Menards before he got busted for graffiti, and that instigated ‘The Sound Of Spite’s Name.’” “Pretend to ring it up, doll-- / Two guys at my check-out unload / a dozen cans of spray paint. / One of them is Smitty, / the joker who took my virginity / eleventh grade. / His eyes still sneer. / Do it, says his buddy, or I kill you. / Suddenly the bulge in his coat pocket / is bigger than both of them. / Even my hands are queasy as they punch / 2 – 40 – 9 x 12 into the cash register. // Smitty flings a toothpick at me / and they grab the paint and go. / Randall has the cops on the line. / I’m cold and sweaty at the same time / remembering the pregnancy test-- / the money filched from my cousin’s / drawer— the drive across two state lines. // Armed robbery’s a felony, / the officer informs me. / He wants me to tell him / which one had the gun. / Calm as blue ice, / I lie.” (Originally in Margie) Some excellent poems here. And some that could’ve been cut without harming the manuscript, in cases where other poems covered the same ground better. But the book does what it sets out to do, and does it well. “Emergency Surgery 3rd Grade” captures Shy’s overall tone. “The scar is now / a strip of rope / not a long railroad / stitched in black / or a welt of red rising / like a mountain ridge / splicing my small daughter / in half. / When she asks Am I safe / Does this guarantee / nothing else bad / will ever happen to me? / how I want to say, ‘Yes, / that’s right, yes, / of course, yes.’”
Last update : 07-04-2007 08:46
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