Torch
by Kim Jacobs-Beck
Wolfson Press, 2019
Kim Jacobs-Beck’s
Torch (Wolfson Press, 2019) drops us squarely in the contemporary Midwest, shining light on “thunder” that “breaks the August sweat” (20), “bread, kielbasa, colored eggs” (33), “a tiny, musty church” (35), and “ghosts / haunting the girders” (15). Our narrator deftly considers how location necessarily influences the difficult bonds of love, family, and threat of violence; she doesn’t shy away from the complications of “Brain tumor grandma / smoking in her hospital bed” (14) or moments when “I plan my escape / from laughing uncles, teasing // father” (8) and “you / --pinned me to the counter / when we argued” (22). As a collection, Torch feels emotionally real and real-life relevant. The poems here are attentive to precise details and sensory particulars that invite readers to feel they, too, are participants in these frequently-weighty scenes. My favorite moments are when the author uses cuttingly precise language to both locate readers and evoke a sense of dread: “berry bushes abortive in / the backyard” (24) or “in the event tent / under the pin oaks” (26). Happily or dreadfully, in these powerful poems, Jacobs-Beck provokes readers to “feel the lake before [we] see it” (6).
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