Thursday, October 8, 2020

CHELSEA DINGMAN—"WHILE MY BROTHER SPENDS YEARS DRINKING HIMSELF TO DEATH" (Issue 20)


WHILE MY BROTHER SPENDS YEARS DRINKING HIMSELF TO DEATH

The future splits
into atoms in a nuclear facility

we don’t mention
anymore. The hares arrive

in winter as windows.
They come, but they don’t

leave, becoming
landscape as we

sleep. What truth is worth
bearing? People appear as angels

in the distance of the mind.
Perhaps, in the dark,

we leave ourselves in order
to begin. What dark

do we need in order to continue?
The roof shakes

with any weather.
The dead pretend to stay

dead. A body wrests the dark
from the bottom of a lake

so the cold need not be
alone, or unwanted.

 

 

ABOUT THE POET 

Chelsea Dingman’s first book, Thaw, was chosen by Allison Joseph to win the National Poetry Series (University of Georgia Press, 2017). Her second book, Through a Small Ghost, won the Georgia Poetry Prize and was published in February 2020. Her recent work can be found in The Southern Review, The
New England Review,
and The Kenyon Review, among others.

ABOUT SUGAR HOUSE REVIEW 

We’ve loved reading the work that we’ve published (clearly), so now we want an opportunity to better hear our contributors. We will feature an audio recording of a poem from one of our seven issues, read by the poet and updated every couple of weeks. This an open invitation to all contributors from any of our issues, we were delighted to print your work, now we’re eager to hear it.

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