Rachel Zucker speaks my language. She manages to capture that weird dichotomy of loving your young children with every fiber of your being while simultaneously resenting that dull, repetitive, mind-numbing domestic pattern that they pull you into. In "The Day I Lost My De Ja Vu" she writes:
All of her poems are like this. They truthfully examine the normal, the every day, the routine.
"remember when weused torememberthings, every night, sayremember the time...and the smells of the past and sometimes a portalopened up
and we slipped in there, into the pastrose up to meet us we were notso alone then, our lives had meaningand we were not born again every goddamnday but felt it what it felt like to be therein those lost places, the gone?
remember? those days? but I can't.now all of me but this is gone and I was never a girl.never but mother neverevery same day new again."
I enjoyed this entire collections, but was reduced a blubbering mess by "Welcome to the Blighted Ovum Support Group" where she recounts the time she was pregnant with a phantom baby. All the signs of pregnancy were there. The morning sickness, the swelling tummy. Sixteen weeks, five days pregnant. She told everyone, even her young sons. Why wouldn't she? She had managed to successfully navigate that scary first trimester. I was looking for a section to excerpt, but the whole poem is just so beautiful and so sad and so true that there was no one piece that I could pull out. Just go read it here.
<I checked this book out of my library