Why is poetry important?
When I read poetry I’m always looking for that simultaneous flash of recognition and wonder—something so familiar being expressed in a completely new way. In those moments, poetry is a powerful form of empathy, and also has the potential to make us look at ourselves or the world with fresh eyes.
How do you know when a poem is finished?
I often find that I call a poem finished, but there’s one line or one image that doesn’t quite work. I ignore it like a sliver for a while—it irritates me but I don’t yet know how to fix it, so I pretend it’s fine. When I finally find a way to sit down and deal with that last thorn, that’s when it really feels complete.
How does a poem begin?
I used some self-imposed prompts or constraints for a number of the poems in my new collection. A lot of the poems began with a single word and its etymology, which is a theme running through the book. One section, called “Shoebox Photos,” began when my husband’s aunt was looking through old photographs after the death of her father; so many of the people in the pictures were unknown, but already telling me stories. But most of my poems begin with a moment—a dead bird in the grass, the posture of a stranger on the street, the pattern on my baby’s washcloth—that memory or gesture or object becomes a way of expressing a larger experience or idea.
What do you find most difficult about writing poetry?
The vulnerability. The subject matter of much of my work is personal and raw, and so is the craft itself. Sharing it with the world feels necessary but also terrifying.
What do you feel poetry can accomplish that other forms can’t?
As a reader, I like how poetry asks me to slow down, pay attention, reread—I enter a different headspace, where deeper engagement and reflection are possible. As a poet, I like how poetry’s compression, sound, and figurative language can enable multiple layers of meaning. I can convey so much more in a few words.
