Black Lawrence Press
April 9, 2016

National Poetry Month Spotlight: Jenny Drai

Welcome to National Poetry Month, 2016! We’re celebrating all month long. Each day we will bring you a poem we love–a selection from one of our published or forthcoming collections.

Today’s featured poet is Jenny Drai, author of the chapbook The New Sorrow Is Less Than the Old Sorrow (2015) and the full-length collection Wine Dark, which is due out this month.

 

Draic_w

I LIE TO YOU WHEN I SLEEP BECAUSE I AM NOT SLEEPING

 

I could

not pin an

orbit on

any sour cherub.

Chance is a

perfume

of bones. All I wanted

was for you to be careless I rode

through a path of beach

trees, thinking of watercress for the miniature

sandwiches. We witness

collapse, swarm

up through the bushes, hard red

manzanita, scale

ladders, filter what is happening from what is not.

Where I am is ambrosia to a soldier of

sleep. You rest here, beside

me, like a warm cat.

Intricacy wanes.

A low float.

Eventually, even I will

dream of poppies.

 

 

 

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IMG_2520Jenny Drai is the author of two collections of poetry, Wine Dark (Black Lawrence Press) and [the door] (Trembling Pillow Press), two poetry chapbooks, The New Sorrow Is Less Than the Old Sorrow (Black Lawrence Press) and :Body Wolf: (Horse Less Press), as well as Letters to Quince (winner of the Deerbird Novella Prize from Artistically Declined Press). Her poetry has appeared in or is forthcoming in American Letters and Commentary, Colorado Review, Denver Quarterly, Dusie, Handsome, Jellyfish, New American Writing, and The Volta, as well as many other journals. She has worked every odd job imaginable and lived all over the place. She currently resides in Bonn, Germany, and is at work on a novel. She recently became Associate Poetry Editor for Drunken Boat.

 

 

 

 

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