Today's poem is "If I Forgive You"
from Gloved Against Blood

CavanKerry Press

Cindy Veach received an MFA from the University of Oregon. Her poetry has appeared in Chicago Review, Prairie Schooner, Poet Lore, The Journal, the North American Review, Michigan Quarterly Review, Valparaiso Poetry Review, Crab Creek Review, and others. She is also an award-winning quilter whose work was selected to tour with the Smithsonian. She manages fundraising programs for nonprofit organizations and lives in Manchester, Massachusetts.

Books by Cindy Veach:

Other poems on the web by Cindy Veach:
"Rose of Jericho"
Two poems
"April Third"
"French Seams"
Two poems

Cindy Veach's Website.

Cindy Veach on Twitter.

About Gloved Against Blood:

"For me, Gloved Against Blood holds the perfect image for these beautiful poems that struggle to push away received histories. From the immigrant mill girls in 19th-century Lowell, Massachusetts, to contemporary café workers who sell espresso / fifteen ways, we need to protect ourselves against hard times—against the firm eye of the needle—against forces we cannot control no matter how hard we work to sew or mend. This is an extremely fine and forceful debut."
—Susan Rich

"For its hardness, for how it resists / splintering,” Gloved Against Blood, by Cindy Veach, with its meditations on the lives and hardships of female textile workers, demands the reader’s steady hand and unflinching gaze through braided images, sometimes lacy with memory, sometimes sharp as a needle. Loom-like, the poet’s forms use the under-over of the sentences in such a way as to bring out a cadence gold-threaded with sound—“the way a daughter // walks, a grandson shrugs— / pure plagiarism, memory muscle // turning backward forward, / not ours not theirs.” Here, the poet investigates faith—in husbands, in the company, in God—but does not arrive at easy conclusions; instead, she turns up more questions and, perhaps more importantly, the silences of those who cannot reply. Ultimately, this collection reminds us that the lives of women are not delicate, domestic trifles; it witnesses to their unyielding survival, asking us to look upon their narratives, “the spiraled remnants of their making."
—Emilia Phillips

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