Hannah Cohen
ISBN: 978-1-949099-17-1
21 pages
In Hannah Cohen's beautiful, haunting Year of the Scapegoat, faith, lineage, and history tangle at their tough roots: God, father, and negation. Here, despite deep estrangement and loss, the speakers of this collection go on, interrogating their existential purpose as their relationships to complicated figures both familiar and spiritual shift over time. Faith is burden in Year of the Scapegoat, but it is also survival, as the speaker of the poem "This is Not a Kaddish" so powerfully puts it: "Even in a month / of dying, the stupid birds outside / my door pray."
— Rachel Mennies, author of The Naomi Letters
The poems in Hannah Cohen's Year of the Scapegoat speak with the deadpan defiance of a sacrificial daughter and the unflinching skepticism of a recovering believer. In this chapbook, father and God become the same empty space, the same pulsating abandonment. But those deadbeats are a dead heart still beating. "Are you a metaphor, // or did I make you into one?" she asks. The inheritance of absence is a barbed one that never stops hurting or drawing blood. "I am ghost and ghosting and ghosted. I haunt myself," Cohen says. These beautifully wry poems are a reclamation of identity and heritage from the hungry mouths of fear and faithlessness. They are both unapologetic and aching.
— Lindsay Lusby, author of Catechesis: a postpastoral