Alison Brackenbury’s seventh poetry collection, Singing in the Dark (Carcanet), has one of the loveliest covers I’ve seen.
A few days ago, Alison sent me a short poem from Singing in the Dark. In her words, heartsease is “a tiny pansy which grows at the edge of cornfields … delicately streaked with palest yellow and violet. But it combines beauty with the toughness of a weed.”
You know we are not lost. Nothing is lost.
The smallest crinkled petal of heartsease
Crumbles to ground. The wind that sweeps each face
Brings, wild with sun, your mother as a girl,
His vanished brothers, holds an endless place
For dogs, cats, ponies, robins that she fed.
Speak, as you must, of every fault and flight.
But never say of me that I am dead.
from Singing in the Dark (Carcanet)
Alison Brackenbury talks to Paul Stevens in The Chimaera (Issue 3) here.
Read nine poems in The Chimaera here.
Four of Alison’s poems in Horizon Review here.
Read more of Alison’s poetry on her website.
Alison’s author page on the Carcanet website.
Charles Bainbridge’s review of Singing in the Dark in The Guardian here.
Order your copy of Singing in the Dark here.