Square Feet, Lori A. May's latest book of poetry, features intimate, courageous poems that invite the reader to witness moments in a couple's journey through joys and challenges. These unassuming poems succeed in depicting serious and complex issues through the details of day-to-day life.
Lori A. May is the author of several books, including SQUARE FEET (Accents, 2014) and THE LOW-RESIDENCY MFA HANDBOOK (Continuum / Bloomsbury, 2011). She writes across the genres and her work has appeared in publications such as The Atlantic, Writer's Digest, Brevity, Midwestern Gothic, and The Writer. She is also the founding editor of Poets’ Quarterly. Lori is a graduate of the Wilkes University MFA program, where she was awarded the Norris Church Mailer Fellowship. She teaches in the University of King’s College creative nonfiction MFA program and is a frequent guest speaker at writing conferences and residencies across North America. Visit her website at www.loriamay.com.
I was in the middle of a frenzied day of cleaning when my copy of SQUARE FEET arrived in the mail. I sat down to thumb through the book, promising myself I’d get back to cleaning in a minute or two. An hour later, with my feet up and a pillow behind my head, I realized I was reading the book for a second time. Lori A. May’s poetry elevates the ordinary, dishes, houses, relationships, even cleaning. It’s one of those books that will make you say, “She knows me,” when you’ve finished reading.
I don't think in square feet. If you tell me a house is so many square feet big, I'll have no idea how big the house is. I've never bought a house or registered a china pattern. I've never lived in the suburbs. Nevertheless, when Lori A May speaks in the vocabulary of the suburban middle class, I understand. Suburban middle class has become the default definition of American.
In poems like "Place Settings" and "Separating the Whites," May uses this default metaphorically to create a portrait of a marriage from choosing the place settings to the renewal of "A Fresh Coat" of paint. Sweepstakes junk-mail, a burnt-out bulb in the refrigerator, the chipped bowl we can't quite bring ourselves to throw away, May transforms these trivialities which form the texture of day to day life.
May's world view is not without humor, as in this poem, my favorite:
Tucked in the Corner
We hold onto the broken chipped bowl, careful not to let the other seven know its fragility, for we cannot afford an epidemic.
Each of Lori A. May’s vivid aphoristic poems in Square Feet raises a miniature window into a moment of marriage or domestic life. Unadorned and unafraid, May’s lines recreate these scenes of love and angst in dioramas of plain words and short lines. Square Feet gives us sex and despair, yes, but also quizzical whimsy. The truths of wry surprises make these poems the work of a mature heart and a trenchant tongue.