Awakin Call

"What's gone / is not quite gone, but lingers./ Not the language, but the bones / of the language.  Not the beloved, / but the dark bed the beloved makes / inside our bodies."  -- Danusha Laméris Danusha Laméris’s poems have been called “wise, direct, and fearless” (American poet Dorianne Laux). She began writing poetry, as she believes many people do, from a place of heartbreak, and not knowing what to do with it. Her first book of poems, The Moons of August (Autumn House, 2014), came on the heels of a rapid succession of deep losses in her early 30s. “I’ve buried a lover, a brother, a son,” she writes early on in the collection. Poetry allowed her to become “intimate with world and life, down to the marrow.” In the process, it enabled her to lay to bed some of the grief, freeing her to go to the edge of discovering joy and pleasure once again – at the place where grief and pleasure live together, in the body. Poet