By Susana H. Case And among the bits of leftover lava that nip at her feet because she didn’t heed instructions to wear enclosed shoes, she secretly scatters the ashes of her mother— illicit without permit—who always loved vacations in Sicily. The wind, sharp as slag, throws itself against skin, and it makes people swarm
by Susana H. Case Sometimes on the Q train, I’m tempted to stay all the way to Coney Island, the end of the line, commuters clutching Starbucks cups under cement skies, to where love is, where I might walk barefoot on sand, or eat Russian vareniki with fried onions, watch the old people sun themselves
by Susana H. Case Boy crazy, the doctor tsked— the phrase lodged in my mother’s throat, as she made sure she heard, repeating it correctly. She was easily fooled by the right diplomas. He prescribed black and aqua pills. I lost time in there; days ballooned away from me. Life is a candy stand with
New York Quarterly Books February, 2022, 124 pages, $18.95 ISBN: 978-1-63045-082-3 Review by Susana H. Case The pun in the title of Barry Wallenstein’s new and eleventh poetry collection, It’s About Time, is that of impending mortality, the diminution of the number of years left for vital living. “The cornucopia is no longer / overflowing”
by Susana H. Case I was nineteen in Ohio. Mornings, the phone rang with my assignment. I’d run down the hill to catch the bus— a different school most mornings— clutching a bag of M&M’s for lunch. Principals said, just keep the students quiet. Poor Maurice—same size as me, but mentally a six-year-old—all deficits and