Why not start the new year with poetry

January 13, 2011

Why not start the new year with poetry -- Cleopatra Mathis will be here on Wednesday, January 26th, to give a reading of her poetry at 7:00 pm in COBA 1124, and an informal q&a session at 4:00 pm in Newton 1107. All faculty, students, staff, and the public are welcome at both events. Please let your students know about the reading (flyer attached -- please post). 

Cleopatra Mathis was born and raised in Ruston, Louisiana. The most recent of her six poetry collections, White Sea, was published by Sarabande Books in 2005. Her work has appeared widely in anthologies, textbooks, and  magazines. Various prizes for her work include two National Endowment for the Arts grants; the Jane Kenyon Award for Outstanding Book of Poems in 2001;  two Pushcart Prizes; the Robert Frost Resident Poet Award and the May Sarton Award. She is the Frederick Sessions Beebe Professor of the Art of Writing at Dartmouth College, where she has directed the Creative Writing Program since 1982.

The reading is sponsored by The Department of Writing and Linguistics (478-0739) and the Georgia Poetry Circuit.

Two poems by Cleopatra Mathis

The Sea Chews Things Up

   When I woke, the waves had gone black,

Getting Out

  That year we hardly slept, waking like inmates
  who beat the walls. Every night
  another refusal, the silent work
  of tightening the heart.
  Exhausted, we gave up; escaped
  to the apartment pool, swimming those laps
  until the first light relieved us.

  Days were different: FM and full-blast
  blues, hours of guitar "you gonna miss me
  when I'm gone." Think how you tried
  to pack up and go, for weeks stumbling
  over piles of clothing, the unstrung tennis rackets.
  Finally locked into blame, we paced
  that short hall, heaving words like furniture.

  I have the last unshredded pictures
  of our matching eyes and hair. We've kept
  to separate sides of the map,
  still I'm startled by men who look like you.
  And in the yearly letter, you're sure to say
  you're happy now. Yet I think of the lawyer's bewilderment
  when we cried, the last day. Taking hands
  we walked apart, until our arms stretched
  between us. We held on tight, and let go.