You might recognize Patricia Clark from one of her four books, the latest of which is Sunday Rising. Or maybe you caught her work in journals like Poetry, The Atlantic, or Slate. Personally, though, I’m hoping that name rings a bell because we here at Atticus Review were privileged to publish her poem, Body Ash, back in June. And we’re even more pleased to proclaim her our Featured Poet for September, with all the rights and privileges afforded by that title. (Patricia, your gold-plated Cadillac, first edition of Leaves of Grass, and a coupon entitling you to lifetime tax exemption should be arriving in a day or two.)Body Ash wasn’t the first time I encountered Patricia’s work, though it felt that way. That’s part of her strength; each time a fit of serendipity steers you under the archways of one of her lyrical dances, you find yourself gaping like an awestruck tourist. Yet those familiar with our Poetry Features know that lyrical acrobats aren’t enough to earn that gold-plated Cadillac; lyricism also requires a deep sense of humanity and purpose to sustain it, and Patricia’s poems are roiling with it. As I think you’ll agree, Patricia’s poems contemplate existence even as they celebrate it, weaving wit and music to tremendous effect.
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SELECTED WORK:
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Portrait of My Lover as Limavady, Ireland
