Full Description
This poignant debut by Gavin Bradley explores the emotional toll of different kinds of separation: from a partner, a previously held sense of self, or a home and the people left behind. The main narrative describes the deterioration of a long-term relationship, interweaving poems dealing with the loneliness of immigration and the anxiety of separation from Northern Ireland, the poet's homeland. These personal poems enter their stories through a variety of characters and places, from dock builders to dogs, from shorelines to volcanoes, to "mouths soft and humming like beehives." Other sections of the collection examine a post-Troubles' experience in Northern Ireland (evoking the lived-experience of growing up with bombs and domineering Catholicism), tell grandfather stories, and show a lasting love for the people, the language, and the land. Separation Anxiety ultimately conveys a message of hope, reminding us that "we'll be remembered for / ourselves, and not the spaces we / leave behind."
Contents
I
2 Hemingway's Cosmonaut
3 September
4 Eating Our Words
5 Strange Kettle of Fish
a haon
8 Although I Can See him Still
10 Laying the Docks
12 Brine
13 Out with the Tide
II
16 False Spring
17 Persephone Starts to Wonder
18 Blood Warm
19 Chrysalis
20 Pockets
21 Why Couples Are Like Expressionists
22 Hidden Moons
23 Mead
a dó
26 Sanctuary
27 Blue Plain Skies
28 Homebody Ghosts
III
30 God Moves His Divan
32 Gossamer
34 What We Can Learn from Gutenberg and the Protestants
35 The Fox
36 Crossing the River with Hera
a trí
38 It'll Be Good for the Kids
39 Unburst Lights
40 The Blazer Brigade
42 The Liminal Sorts
IV
44 Grand Canyon
45 Probably a Bit of Pathetic Fallacy
46 Easy Love
47 Gobi
48 Koi no yokan
a ceathair
50 Dead Language
51 Birds of Paradise
52 Albatross
53 The Space between Breaths
V
56 Panic Attack at a Stag Party in Whitefish, Montana
57 Challenge Your Self Talk
58 In with the Tide
60 Uncoupling
62 Scales
64 Epiphanies at the End of the World
65 Remainder
a cúig
68 Going Home
69 Being an Albatross
70 Acknowledgements
72 Sometimes, a haiku:"
