Four Way Books, 2017 Paper: 978-1-935536-83-3 Library of Congress Classification PS3623.H569A6 2017 Dewey Decimal Classification 811.6
ABOUT THIS BOOK | AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY | TOC
ABOUT THIS BOOK
The speaker in Please Bury Me in This grieves the death of her father and the loss of several women to suicide while contemplating her own death and the nature of language as a means of human connection that transcends our temporal lives. This book is also concerned with the intergenerational trauma of the children of Holocaust survivors.
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
ALLISON BENIS WHITE is the author of Small Porcelain Head, selected by Claudia Rankine for the Four Way Books Levis Prize in Poetry. Her first book, Self-Portrait with Crayon, received the Cleveland State University Poetry Center Book Prize. Allison is an Assistant Professor at the University of California, Riverside.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
“Underneath each seat was a small box . . .” • “Like a string of glass beads . . .” • “Looking up in the dark I thought . . .” • “I am not any closer to saying what I mean.” • “Dear Kitty, Dear God, Dear Lucifer.” • “I mean my head is a napkin folded into a swan.” • “Now my neighbor through the wall . . .” • “Maybe the pain is see-through, clicking.” • “I am writing to you as an act of immolation . . .” • “Daydreaming and soon, between my fingers . . .” • “Reaching in to touch its spine . . .” • “Like the coldness of the body . . .” • “I am drawing a window in the air around my face.” • “Even the word depression . . .” • “Or love: to be injured in the same way at the same time.” • “Tell me the first thing you loved . . .” • “In a letter found buried near a gas chamber:” • “And just near enough to read her neck . . .” • “Maybe my arms lifted . . .” • “Then lightly, in green pencil, animal loneliness.” • “In the museum of sadness, in the museum of light—” • “Often a string, attached to a bell on a headstone . . .” • “Asked by her husband on her deathbed . . .” • “As if death was a place . . .” • “I have seen my own breath in the cold.” • “Paper of the body, I pray, the mind.” • “Looking down at the floor afterward . . .” • “Another beautiful thing: a curtain of red beads . . .” • “In other words, it is better to be hungry.” • “Or I could touch my face with blood on my fingertips—” • “I would say a mind made of snow.” • “Maybe I have had my vision.” • “Pinned to a dress in Julia's closet . . .” • “I don't know how to explain the mouth anymore.” • “Until the poem becomes a house . . .” • Even looking at pictures of a bride . . .” • “Like a lake on fire . . .” • “Almost a star of blood . . .” • “I am writing to you as an act of ending.” • “Or a swan's neck above an hourglass . . .” • Notes
The speaker in Please Bury Me in This grieves the death of her father and the loss of several women to suicide while contemplating her own death and the nature of language as a means of human connection that transcends our temporal lives. This book is also concerned with the intergenerational trauma of the children of Holocaust survivors.
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
ALLISON BENIS WHITE is the author of Small Porcelain Head, selected by Claudia Rankine for the Four Way Books Levis Prize in Poetry. Her first book, Self-Portrait with Crayon, received the Cleveland State University Poetry Center Book Prize. Allison is an Assistant Professor at the University of California, Riverside.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
“Underneath each seat was a small box . . .” • “Like a string of glass beads . . .” • “Looking up in the dark I thought . . .” • “I am not any closer to saying what I mean.” • “Dear Kitty, Dear God, Dear Lucifer.” • “I mean my head is a napkin folded into a swan.” • “Now my neighbor through the wall . . .” • “Maybe the pain is see-through, clicking.” • “I am writing to you as an act of immolation . . .” • “Daydreaming and soon, between my fingers . . .” • “Reaching in to touch its spine . . .” • “Like the coldness of the body . . .” • “I am drawing a window in the air around my face.” • “Even the word depression . . .” • “Or love: to be injured in the same way at the same time.” • “Tell me the first thing you loved . . .” • “In a letter found buried near a gas chamber:” • “And just near enough to read her neck . . .” • “Maybe my arms lifted . . .” • “Then lightly, in green pencil, animal loneliness.” • “In the museum of sadness, in the museum of light—” • “Often a string, attached to a bell on a headstone . . .” • “Asked by her husband on her deathbed . . .” • “As if death was a place . . .” • “I have seen my own breath in the cold.” • “Paper of the body, I pray, the mind.” • “Looking down at the floor afterward . . .” • “Another beautiful thing: a curtain of red beads . . .” • “In other words, it is better to be hungry.” • “Or I could touch my face with blood on my fingertips—” • “I would say a mind made of snow.” • “Maybe I have had my vision.” • “Pinned to a dress in Julia's closet . . .” • “I don't know how to explain the mouth anymore.” • “Until the poem becomes a house . . .” • Even looking at pictures of a bride . . .” • “Like a lake on fire . . .” • “Almost a star of blood . . .” • “I am writing to you as an act of ending.” • “Or a swan's neck above an hourglass . . .” • Notes