House with Only an Attic and a Basement
''But back to the summer day the spike
grazed my brother''s scalp: I slept beside him
in his racing car bed and my father woke me
and slapped my face, thinking, I assume, of sex,
whereas I was already thinking about death.''
Urban, suburban, sharply observant, now obsessive and now urbane, the poems in Kathryn Maris''s third book range with a dry wit over such subjects as parenthood, marriage, adultery...
''But back to the summer day the spike
grazed my brother''s scalp: I slept beside him
in his racing car bed and my father woke me
and slapped my face, thinking, I assume, of sex,
whereas I was already thinking about death.''
Urban, suburban, sharply observant, now obsessive and now urbane, the poems in Kathryn Maris''s third book range with a dry wit over such subjects as parenthood, marriage, adultery...
