Told in six parts, Things I Didn’t Do with This Body sings in myriad voices and forms—ragged columns rich with syncopated internal rhyme, crisp formal sonnets, and the angular shapes of a stream-of-pill-induced-consciousness.
Bedecked in Fenty and Shalimar, Amanda Gunn’s startling debut, Things I Didn’t Do with This Body, invites you to read with all of your senses and gives fresh meaning to the phrase a body of work. Told in six parts, this collection sings in myriad voices and forms—ragged columns rich with syncopated internal rhyme, crisp formal sonnets, and the angular shapes of a stream-of-pill-induced-consciousness. Both tender and emotionally raw, these poems interweave explorations of family and interrogations of history, including an unforgettable sequence that meditates on the life of Harriet Tubman. With Tubman’s portrait perched above her writing desk, Gunn pens poems that migrate from South to North, from elegy to prayer, from borrowed shame to self-acceptance.
Writing with frankness and honesty, Gunn finds no thought, no memory, too private: a father’s verbal blow, a tense visit to a gynecologist’s table, the longing to be “erased/by a taxi at 50 miles an hour,” and grief at the loss of two former lovers, decades apart. Death is familiar here, yet we find softness, grace, and hope in the culinary lessons learned in warm family kitchens, in the communal laughter of a rehab center’s common room, and in the rewards and pleasures of the fat erotic. With poems as malleable as the skin that “misplaced one hundred nine pounds” and filled it again, Gunn proves that, for the Black body, memory often presents the heaviest weight. Things I Didn’t Do with This Body is a reminder that “carried in the body is the future, the present, and the past.” The most capable thing a body can do is remember and bear it and live.
Father at Table
Highway
Shells
My Father Speaks
All Things
'A Long Ways From Home'
To Kati Who Doesn't Remember
Monarch
Girl
After Surgery
The Last Day / Romania 1986
Look
II.
Araminta
39 Objects at the Smithsonian
Mystic
Coda: Refuge
III.
Go North
Notes on a Dream of Dying
Ordinary Sugar
Hypersisters
Repair Work
Admissions
Collect
IV.
The Name For
Chronic
Is It OK
Every Letter Every Word Every Page
Bad Romance
Good Romance
Level
V.
Wake
It's like We—
Return
Tyrant
Never Now
What You Meant
Kaleidoscope
VI.
Baker
Shalimar
Morning at Crash Boat Beach
Poetic Exercise in the Service of Love
Patience
Household
Stormwatching in Campania
Happy and Well
Elegy
Prayer
Things I Didn't Do With This Body & Things I Did
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