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Memory and loss in 'We Nod Our Dark Heads'
Posted 4/16/2008
MADISON, Wis. – Wisconsin poet Lisa Marie Brodsky traces both memory loss and the corresponding metaphorical loss of loved ones in a compelling new collection of poetry, We Nod Our Dark Heads, from the Parallel Press.
Brodsky has been published in Atlanta Review, Born Magazine, The North American Review, and The Southern Ocean Review. She won first place in Circle Magazine's poetry contest and honorable mention from the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poetry. She is the founder and facilitator for Inside Out Writing Workshops, which focus on the benefits of emotional healing through creative writing.
Brodsky, who lives in Fitchburg, grew up in Chicago. She earned her bachelor's degree in English and creative writing from Loyola University. She moved to Wisconsin in 2001 and completed a master's of fine arts in poetry in 2005 at the University of Wisconsin-Madison.
The Parallel Press is an imprint of the University of Wisconsin-Madison Libraries. For more information, visit http://parallelpress.library.wisc.edu/chapbooks/poetry.
Orders may be sent to:
The Parallel Press
372 Memorial Library
728 State Street
Madison, WI 53706
Phone: (608) 262-2600
A recent poem from Lisa Marie Brodsky, author of We Nod Our Dark Heads
I held my mother's hopes for me. I held
my children, one by one, folded in the arms
of the paper. I held my elderlies, their false teeth,
their dry skin, their gripping hands. I remembered
what it felt like to
brush their hair,
give them hugs. Has it really been
four years?
Some may be dead by now. Holding my book,
I hold their legacy, their whispers and murmurings.
I join their hands and we're all in a circle, singing
Frank Sinatra tunes. Holding
my book, I hold a bridge of sighs as I see
how far I've climbed. Times are changing.
I'm not the same person I was
a time ago when I hid in my bedroom and cried,
hid in the stairwell and cried, hid
in the bathroom and cried. Holding my book,
I hold my future mapped out for me in gold.
I'm going to make it. I'm going to write and dream
and publish and fit into the shoes
I saw when I was five. Writer-shoes I wanted
to fill one day
when I wasn't so scared of life.
