Here's a book about the adjustment to age, the imperfections in the world,
loss and what it makes of a person, and the poet as an "absentee Nana," her
grandchild living far away. What does it mean, in a climate changed world,
to pass the "stiff diorama" of degraded farmland to a scattered family?
Kendrick valiantly copes with not having all the answers in And Luckier. Her
combination of melancholy and gratitude provides all we can't know of life
and its endings with a majestic understanding.
Praise For And Luckier…
And Luckier opens with a dispassionate question: "who might it serve that you / would grow downhearted?" The poems that follow take us through many voices, subjects, and perspectives, bringing us at last to this hard-won counsel: "So much suffering. We cannot uncause it / But we can set ourselves to mend, / ... I will pick up the rubble. / I will carry one stone at a time." —George Ella Lyon
Some poets wear their hard-earned wisdom as lightly as earth holds the most delicate of its blooms—with roots fierce and stubborn, with stems "tough enough to wait out the drought / that comes before the bloom." I love Leatha Kendrick's new collection, And Luckier, for its graceful, ferocious holding. "What will your seeing make?" Kendrick asks in her opening poem. Hers has made these poems of witness and of healing, and we, her readers, are all the luckier for them. —Pauletta Hansel
Accents Publishing, 9781936628568, 76pp.
Publication Date: March 30, 2020