Beth Gylys' Odes to Her Father [by Nin Andrews]

I just read Beth Gylys' stunning new collection, After My Father, a Book of Odes.  The book made me wonder if one ever recovers from the death of a beloved parent. Her eloquent, heart-felt, elegiac poems about her plump, alcohol and bacon-loving, nose-blowing, all-business father brought back so many memories of my own father, I was glad I had a box of Kleenex handy. Gylys, known as a master of the villanelle, is also a master of the ode. As Dustin Brookshire put it,  "As we read each poem, we are buried in the abundant love of a daughter for her father, happy memories and the not so, but always the love."

Writing My Father's Obituary

All of the words have holes, and those holes
have more holes. Now I am the one buried. 

 

The Day After Your Father Dies

You wake up, and still
you have no father.
Your husband brings you coffee
as always. Your father
is dead. You eat cereal.
Chew. Nothing and everything
has shifted. He could be
at the Marriott. His
chapped bloody lips
that would not open
for water, for a spoon
are they still somewhere?
Have they taken his brain?
How much fire, how much ash?
You sip your coffee,
a small grace. There is no
when or where. You hope
he somehow knows
the cavern in your chest
is his, one of the many
things he chiseled
for decades into the walls.

Note: All posts by Nin Andrews are copyright (c) 2024 by Nin Andrews. All rights reserved.

 

Comments

[David Lehman]

Thank you, Beth, and thank you Nin, not only for this and for all your wonderful columns.

[sbj]

Beth Gylys is a terrific poet who's been flying under the radar for a long time because she doesn't make a lot of noise about herself. She should make more. She's the best writer of villanelles and her empathy and generosity are manifest throughout her work. I can't wait to read her newest book.

[Berwyn Moore]

Powerful poem, Beth. I will brace myself to read the others.
Congratulations.