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Heather Sellers

Heather Sellers

Heather Sellers is the author of two previous volumes of poetry, the short story collection Georgia Under Water, a children’s book, and a series of books on the practice of writing. Her memoir about face blindness is forthcoming from Riverhead Books in Fall 2010. Recipient of a National Endowments for the Arts Fellowship for fiction, Heather Sellers is a professor at Hope College in Holland, Michigan. 

www.heathersellers.com

Also by Heather Sellers

 

The Boys I Borrow

The Boys I BorrowThe Boys I Borrow

$14.00 paper | 97 Pages
ISBN: 978-1-930974-71-5
Publication Date: Nov 2007
Buy: Amazon.com | spdbooks.org

An Inland Seas Poetry Book

"Many of these sensitive, clever poems are about navigating the new waters of a non traditional family. The result is a cohesive, engaging collection in which a real heroine persona explores the often challenging terrain of the domicile."
        —Billy Collins

"In a world in which people speak in clichés and platitudes, Heather Sellers's stunning new collection of poems The Boys I Borrow, transcends the quotidian events of our day. I've read novels that have not developed relationships between people in marriage as well as this. In poems that deftly insert lyric moments into narrative, she uncovers the nuances of infertility, a new marriage and the changes in life before and after. If you know anything about the difference between desire and love and the realities that blur between them, if you've lived any life at all you'll 'remember, you have lived this way, always hungry' for more."
        —A. Van Jordan

"When you open The Boys I Borrow, you won't find poems about angels or mythological heroines—what you'll find is life the way we live it, but more clearly seen and deeply understood than the average human can easily bear. The dramas in this book are the dramas of the lived life in the 21st century—we have trips to the fertility doctor, motorcycles rides to the Shangrai-La Motel beneath a 'well hung, low slung' moon, stepsons whose 'tongues are simple antennae' and who play Nintendo, need help with their homework—in short, all of our wonderfully banal and beautiful world rendered in painterly precision and tender humor. This is a book that sustains."
        —Beth Ann Fennelly

Praise for Drinking Girls and Their Dresses:

"If you love poetry you can see, smell, taste, hear, and feel, then you will love the luscious poems in this collection. Heather Sellers's lines have the cadence of a chant, and there is some serious voodoo going on here, some magic incantations about being a girl, a woman, a human being in a scary, beautiful world."
        —Barbara Hamby

Poem

Kitchen Waltz with Kitty Wells, Moon, and Boys

The blinds are up, the dusty screens loose and you're working
On the dishes real slow and I am not helping. It's 9 pm, hot sticky
Michigan summer night, the lake out there, humming emptiness.
The boys play StarCraft online, hovered over the terminal
Stuck to cheap chairs, ones you brought home from Employee Sales.

It's September and still summer and still hot. We are still
In love in a kind of jagged way. I don't always love this life.
I'm still dreaming. You ask about my time. I go to the sink

Pull your hands from the dismal water, you into my arms. You
Are the better dancer from the waist up. I'm superior from the hips
To the floor. And then you put on the music. And the moon comes over
The steel sink. And the kids come in to see why. And you open
Another bottle of cheap Foxhorn chardonnay, which
We have convinced ourselves is golden good.

The boys don't dance they peck, chicken beaks. I dance no sex, family.
Just Fun Mom Dance Moves. I promise everything good for the boys
With my body, my smile, my barefeet. But they shrink, they back out.
They can't stand to see it, me and you, swinging, losing our rhythm.

The boys are back at their brilliant box, making finger explosions
In that weird blue light, and the dad and I move into our boxes
And balances. We took a ballroom class once. We know the words
To all of Wells. We know how to stage the moonlight, and move
Like any small dancing vague family.