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Best of Irish Poetry 2010
Editor: Matthew Sweeney
Songs of Earth and Light
Barbara Korun poems translated by Theo Dorgan
Done Dating DJs
by Jennifer Minniti-Shippey
Winner, 2008 Fool for Poetry Competition
Richesses: Francophone Songwriter Poets
Edited and translated by Aidan Hayes
Munster Literature Centre
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MAYA CATHERINE POPA
Maya Catherine Popa graduated Summa Cum Laude from Barnard College, Columbia University, in 2011. She received an MSt from Oxford University under a Clarendon Scholarship and an MFA from NYU, where she co-taught a workshop for veterans of Iraq and Afghanistan. Her work appears in The Kenyon Review, Fence, Narrative, FIELD, Colorado Review, Poetry London, PN Review, The Rumpus, and elsewhere. She reviews books for Publisher's Weekly and is an Editorial Fellow at Poets & Writers Magazine in New York City.
The Bees Have Been Cancelled
1st Prize in the Gregory O'Donoghue International Poetry Competition
Gif © Alexandre Fage
Knocking against my Southwest window,
I mount a feeder, inviting her vandalism.
And though a guest with too delicate a coat,
she never drops a feather, an unfulfilled parable,
while inside our losses gracelessly accrue
without logic or pattern, and we wonder at that:
what prepares a bird for so much failure
when all her body’s work amounts to maintenance,
no spare change from a day's sugar water,
no breakthrough in song, no new nest.
My uncle dies on Christmas; my father
apologizes for crimes that went unnoticed
through fifty years of knowing. I've never
had a sibling, can't conceive of the collation,
but there are lessons I want to teach him
about birds, how they dare keep everything
precious in one place; the elastic safety
of the hummingbird's three eyelids
designed to protect her during flight.
She can close her lids and this spare space,
shut more light than a human eye, draw it
from a wound to guide the silence after.
Shortlisted in the Gregory O'Donoghue International Poetry Competition
The Bees Have Been Cancelled
Never again the humming, saddled flowers. Never the blind oath by a velveteen prisoner. Never the yellow, hula hooped in black, little engine left running late into the darkness. Oh, how they were charming, clever monographs. Sunlight couldn’t save them from the angel of extinction. Virgil said they swell with nectar’s tilted knowledge. I don’t know what to believe. Maybe they tired of being addicts. Clover honey, garbage honey, accidental ice cream honey. Ransomed stamen, sweetsinful will-do-anything-for honey. Maybe they caught fevers at midnight with no one there to hold their stingers, no fat queen to press a cold compress. How will we currency honey from wildflowers, that liquid of languages? How pollinate in the bees’ electrostatic absence? How will the bellbirds take it, the Canterbury birds? Who will cast the last skeleton in amber? I’ll miss the noise, the palimpsestic clamor, soft shock of discovering a hive under your roof. The lull as each integer walked its body over a blossom, then flew away with its instructions.
©2014 Maya Catherine Popa
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'Sinaia, Romania': poem by Popa in The Kenyon Review
Poetry review by Popa in The Kenyon Review