Ivory Cradle

by Anne Marie Macari

Ivory Cradle is the winner of the third annual American Poetry Review /Honickman First Book Prize, as chosen by poet Robert Creeley. In his introduction, Creeley writes, "now and again one comes upon a story so quietly and articulately told that it stays in mind long after, echoing, recasting the usual frames of reference and order, making whatever it is the world had been thought to be, quite changed and even, again, unknown." Ivory Cradle is such a story as it charts a personal journey through questions of faith and history, with its anger redeemed by passion and the transformative power of art.

from "Morning in Florence"

I was out the door and halfway to the elevator
When he threatened to throw
my clothes into the lobby. With the baby to think of
I had to know when to stay or go

So I headed out alone into the consoling brown light
Off the river, feeling the child
Swimming carefully inside me as I walked to see
Fra Angelico's frescoes in cells

Where monks once slept and knelt, contemplated
And vanished; where in rapture he worked
fast as the plaster dried to get light to wash the wall
the way God would have done it

" Ivory Cradle announces a poet fully formed, fully mature, and wild to say things in ways they've never been said before. Rarely, very rarely, is a so-sane heart so beautifully articulated. This is not just an exceptional first book, it is a flat-out exceptional book, period." ―Thomas Lux

"Reading Anne Marie Macari's poems I think of Jane Kenyon, in her kindred humor, quietness, fierceness, and plain integrity. But this poet is 'flowering dark.'"―Jean Valentine

Anne Marie Macari lives in Mt. Kisco, New York.

Genres: Poetry

96 pages, Paperback

First published October 1, 2000

About the author

Anne Marie Macari is an American poet. Her most recent book is She Heads Into the Wilderness. Her first book won The APR/Honickman First Book Prize in Poetry.

Reviews

[Molly · Rating 4 out of 5]

I love that Ivory Cradle refers to the crescent moon. A few phrases I loved:

holding my belly that was puffed out / like a pink moon (12)

as if winter left / odd ice bangles (19)

the moon's / slim cup in the bare spindles (26)

pine cones like bells, / whole mountainsides of them ringing / from their tall green steeples. (35)

my arms bird-strung (37)

In poem "Forth of July": I tried / to understand why we could not remain / one body--my first born, his brothers, and I-- / why we had to spark and screech, / blowing apart like that. (39)

the flecks of moonlight dress us (54)

[Barrett · Rating 2 out of 5]

Early feelings about this book are that, while it was clearly a thoughtfully written and arranged first collection, it felt emotionally monotonous and thematically repetitive beyond a merely judicious and creative use of recursion. Birds, bees, and birds & bees are in virtually every poem. Also, it should be noted that it was pretty grim. Issues of spousal and child abuse may be triggers.

[Renee Alberts · Rating 4 out of 5]

People who liked Olena Kalytiak Davis' And Her Soul Out of Nothing will like Macari's work as well. Her poems have a similar tough, mystical questioning quality, but remain grounded, blending the holy with the body.