April is National Poetry Month, a month set aside to celebrate poetry and its vital place in our society. Launched by the Academy of American Poets in 1996, this month-long celebration has attracted millions of readers, students, teachers, librarians, booksellers, and poets.
Each Friday of April, I will share a favorite poetry collection.
Today’s pick is How to Fly (In Ten Thousand Easy Lessons) by Barbara Kingsolver, a collection described as “reflections on the practical, the spiritual, and the wild.”
Having enjoyed reading Kingsolver’s novels, I was delighted to discover that she also writes poetry. In this collection, she explores everyday life with warmth and insight.
The book opens with a series of “how to” poems that range from the intimate—marriage and divorce—to the unexpected, like shearing a sheep or doing nothing at all. Her poem “How to Survive This” was featured in The New York Times during the pandemic.
The second set, “Pellegrinaggio,” follows a family trip to Italy with her mother-in-law. I could easily visualize the following scene in “On the Train to Sicily:”
“In a family compartment we take the long
road south, down the coast and across the channel
to the patria of her father. She is so tired.
We’ve lifted her onto the sill of this urbane clatter,
tucked ourselves in a cupboard of relative
peace, but now her small frame finds no resting
place on the great square seats. We offer
pillows, sips of water. She only says, Don’t worry.”
Next come four sets of poems about making peace (or not) with our families and friends, aging, grief, and mortality. The final set celebrates the natural world–ruthless ants, clever shellfish, coral reefs, haunting deserts, and ghost-flowers. While reading this set, I was reminded of Mary Oliver’s poems.
I recommend taking your time to read and reflect on each poem. Seven sets in seven days—one possibility. Or simply devour them in one or two gulps and then return to the ones that resonate most with you.
One of my favorites:
How to Do Absolutely Nothing
Rent a house near the beach, or a cabin
but: Do not take your walking shoes.
Don’t take any clothes you’d wear
anyplace anyone would see you.
Don’t take your rechargeables.
Take Scrabble if you have to,
but not a dictionary and no
pencils for keeping score.
Don’t take a cookbook
or anything to cook.
A fishing pole, ok
but not the line,
hook, sinker,
leave it all.
Find out
what’s
left.
Joanne Guidoccio 