
America, a Love Story
Versandkostenfrei!
Erscheint vorauss. 3. März 2026
13,99 €
inkl. MwSt.
Weitere Ausgaben:
New poems on love, family, and art from the author of Soil: The Story of a Black Mother's Garden America, A Love Story is Camille T. Dungy's powerful testament to living and loving as a Black woman and mother in today's America, and her first book of poetry in almost a decade. Piercingly honest and deeply compassionate, this poetry moves through the mounting griefs of contemporary American life with unwavering clarity. The book is part indictment, part celebration--full of gratitude, fear, resistance, and hope. Dungy explores intimacy, parenting, racism, history, and the natural world with cla...
New poems on love, family, and art from the author of Soil: The Story of a Black Mother's Garden America, A Love Story is Camille T. Dungy's powerful testament to living and loving as a Black woman and mother in today's America, and her first book of poetry in almost a decade. Piercingly honest and deeply compassionate, this poetry moves through the mounting griefs of contemporary American life with unwavering clarity. The book is part indictment, part celebration--full of gratitude, fear, resistance, and hope. Dungy explores intimacy, parenting, racism, history, and the natural world with clarity and depth. Some poems reflect on the past; others respond to the work of contemporary Black artists. Many are formally playful, including a series of 700-character poems inspired by the 700 hours of sleep a mother loses in her child's first year. Gorgeous, bright, and bold, these poems speak from the edges--between mother and child, body and earth, self and country. They hold tension and tenderness in equal measure, creating a space for love amidst uncertainty. [sample poem] To enter our own empty house She was seven when we stopped using keys. One less thing to lose. Now we punch a combination. Easy, but hopefully not so easy a stranger could guess. This is where I should stop. They are bound to be angry, my beloveds. I am giving away all our secrets again. Vulnerability is the root of much fury. = I was small. A stone in the yard hid a metal case with a lid that slid like a matchbox top to reveal our key. Lifting that rock I thought of bashing someone's head. I thought of harm lurking, dressed in the body of some stranger. = Sometimes, I wrestle my daughter. I make her tiny body work itself out from under the weight I make of my own. In this way I try to teach her how it feels to break free.