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Making Bread at Midnight
Book by St Germain, Sheryl
100 pages, Paperback
First published June 1, 1992
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
April 23, 2021
I am not really a poetry fan, but a good friend recommended this to me. It was just so dark I really had a hard time, and couldn't finish.
December 14, 2021
I never wore underwear, though she gave it to me year
after year, cotton and silk lace panties blue and pink,
white and clean as death.
I'd throw a pair in the dirty clothes every other day
so she'd think I was wearing them, but I never
wore them, no, I was afraid to get
in a car accident if I did, and besides,
if I did get in a car accident
I would want them to find me dead
as I was alive, the wind rushing up my legs under
my skirt, everything open
and frank as the highway,
not smothered and sad by underwear;
I would want them to find me
bare-assed and bleeding,
spread out on the street.
from "Things My Mother Always Told Me"
Sheryl St. Germain's Making Bread at Midnight is an engaging collection of poems centered around being raised around New Orleans as well as experiences with family members dealing with alcoholism, addiction, death. She employs a direct, conversational style which tends to distract a reader from discerning the intricacy of her poetry. In her "confessional style," she speaks directly and frankly; upon reflection on the work as a whole, the reader comes away with so much more than learning about Sheryl St. Germain. The work rewards multiple readings.
Scars
Today the streets run like gray scars
across the cold face of this city.
I love the scar on my stomach that runs fat
and long where they cut my son out;
I touch it at night sometimes, I like to feel
how the skin is different there, protruded and smooth
something happened here
the body heals itself, we change,
grow older, are not gods,
and a poem is a scar, not the wound
itself but the knowledge
of the wound, the flag
of the wound, a wiser tissue
laid out like a street, this way, this way.
Louisiana Poetry Reviews
Ascension<--------> Davenport's Version: A Narrative Poem
after year, cotton and silk lace panties blue and pink,
white and clean as death.
I'd throw a pair in the dirty clothes every other day
so she'd think I was wearing them, but I never
wore them, no, I was afraid to get
in a car accident if I did, and besides,
if I did get in a car accident
I would want them to find me dead
as I was alive, the wind rushing up my legs under
my skirt, everything open
and frank as the highway,
not smothered and sad by underwear;
I would want them to find me
bare-assed and bleeding,
spread out on the street.
from "Things My Mother Always Told Me"
Sheryl St. Germain's Making Bread at Midnight is an engaging collection of poems centered around being raised around New Orleans as well as experiences with family members dealing with alcoholism, addiction, death. She employs a direct, conversational style which tends to distract a reader from discerning the intricacy of her poetry. In her "confessional style," she speaks directly and frankly; upon reflection on the work as a whole, the reader comes away with so much more than learning about Sheryl St. Germain. The work rewards multiple readings.
Scars
Today the streets run like gray scars
across the cold face of this city.
I love the scar on my stomach that runs fat
and long where they cut my son out;
I touch it at night sometimes, I like to feel
how the skin is different there, protruded and smooth
something happened here
the body heals itself, we change,
grow older, are not gods,
and a poem is a scar, not the wound
itself but the knowledge
of the wound, the flag
of the wound, a wiser tissue
laid out like a street, this way, this way.
Louisiana Poetry Reviews
Ascension<--------> Davenport's Version: A Narrative Poem
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews