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Yale Series of Younger Poets
My Shining Archipelago
The winner of the 1996 Yale Series of Younger Poets competition is Talvikki Ansel for My Shining Archipelago.
"Ansel`s poetry is refreshingly original," says the distinguished poet and contest judge James Dickey. "She renders the heat, the closeness, the mystery, and the terrible fear of the undisclosed, the lurking, the waiting to happen. This is true imagination, true craft."
Flemish Beauty
Yesterday, all winter,
I had not thought of pears,
pear . The tear-shaped, papery core,
precise seeds. This one channeled
through with worm tunnels.
Bruises, a rotten half―
sometimes there’s nothing left
to drop into the pot.
That phrase
I could have “you still
have us…”
The knife
slides easily beneath the skins,
top to base, spiraling
them away.
The insubstantial us.
It could as well be the pear
talking to the river, turning to
the grass (“you still have us”).
Besides, it’s just me
a pear in my hand (the slop bucket full
of peels)―and sometimes, yes, that
seems a pear―
this larger one,
yellow-green, turning to
“Duchess” maybe, “Devoe,”
or what I want to call “Flemish
Beauty.”
When I can’t sleep,
I’ll hold my hand as if I held
a pear, my fingers mimicking
the curve. The same curve
as the newel post
I’ve used for years, swinging
myself up to the landing, always
throwing my weight back. And always
nails loosening, mid-bound.
"Ansel`s poetry is refreshingly original," says the distinguished poet and contest judge James Dickey. "She renders the heat, the closeness, the mystery, and the terrible fear of the undisclosed, the lurking, the waiting to happen. This is true imagination, true craft."
Flemish Beauty
Yesterday, all winter,
I had not thought of pears,
pear . The tear-shaped, papery core,
precise seeds. This one channeled
through with worm tunnels.
Bruises, a rotten half―
sometimes there’s nothing left
to drop into the pot.
That phrase
I could have “you still
have us…”
The knife
slides easily beneath the skins,
top to base, spiraling
them away.
The insubstantial us.
It could as well be the pear
talking to the river, turning to
the grass (“you still have us”).
Besides, it’s just me
a pear in my hand (the slop bucket full
of peels)―and sometimes, yes, that
seems a pear―
this larger one,
yellow-green, turning to
“Duchess” maybe, “Devoe,”
or what I want to call “Flemish
Beauty.”
When I can’t sleep,
I’ll hold my hand as if I held
a pear, my fingers mimicking
the curve. The same curve
as the newel post
I’ve used for years, swinging
myself up to the landing, always
throwing my weight back. And always
nails loosening, mid-bound.
- GenresPoetry
70 pages, Paperback
First published March 27, 1997
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
July 16, 2024
Best poem by far is Afterwards: Caliban.
August 13, 2016
These poems are so much better than what I'm used to from the YYPS. Concise, focused, with marvelous detail, the book is a nice mixture of observation and insight. Pretty, melodic, and free from pretension. Fun to read aloud (a rare quality in modern poetry.)
December 31, 2013
These poems were a little dense - which I think reflects poorly on me, rather than the poet's work. Her language was beautiful and there were some very stunning, sonic lines, but I needed a little more breathing room. My mind could be changed by hearing these poems read out loud.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews