It’s rare to find a poem that perfectly captures the anger, absurdity, complexity, and hilarity of grief—something which Sherman Alexie does again and again in his new collection of poems, FACE, which is just out from Hanging Loose Press, and which I devoured in one sitting, and then immediately started over and re-read from the beginning. One poem in the book that I adore is “Grief Calls Us to the Things of This World.” It’s been almost 20 years since my mother died, and 10 since I lost my father…and there are still days I forget they’re dead. Alexie is right: those angels “burden and unbalance us. Those fucking angels ride us piggyback.” Every day.
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