In works whose subjects range from the religious to the carnal, the whimsical to the foreboding, Jennifer Maier’s debut collection of poems, Dark Alphabet, explores the everyday mysteries of our common experience with humor, lucidity, and an unblinking yet compassionate eye. Whether occasioned by a song overheard on the car radio, a packet of risqué postcards from the 1920's, a conversation with a dead parent, or the behavior of ducks in mating season, each poem sets off on a journey that ranges far from its origins, arriving with the reader in a clearing at dusk, in a place of wise good humor and somber grace.
About the Author
The award-winning poet Jennifer Maier is an associate professor of English at Seattle Pacific University. She serves as an editor for the quarterly journal IMAGE. Her poems have appeared in Poetry, SWINK, The Mississippi Review, Poetry Daily, and elsewhere.
Read an Excerpt
Waiting at the Neptune
H. K. H.
I see you in the lighted ticket window like you’d been assembled in there,
a Spanish galleon in a bottle,
the eight months of me carved out in front, like a wanton figurehead.
And I see the college kids lining up
down 45th, blue under the neon trident. They are about to graduate,
about to marry each other and stop going to movies, but first,
each boy must slip this dollar through the glass, and you,
spit out the tickets like a purple tongue.
Only then will they begin moving like unwary swimmers out of the blue April night into the seascape lobby,
making their way blind,
down sloping aisles to velvet-covered springs,
while I bob inside you,
for the parting curtain,
waiting, each of us,
for our sad or happy story.