In the Guesthouse of My Body

Poetry. In THE GUESTHOUSE OF MY BODY, her seventh collection, Natalie Safir confronts the unstoppable flow of time and circumstances--the diminishments of aging and personal loss. These poems turn searchlights on her troublesome heart as in "The Heart's Conversation," and "How Heart Beats," "A tired fire of muscle," on family incidents from the past, "I moved toward her as a key/when there was no door," observations of the natural world, and to the darkly comic present with wit,...
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Poetry. In THE GUESTHOUSE OF MY BODY, her seventh collection, Natalie Safir confronts the unstoppable flow of time and circumstances--the diminishments of aging and personal loss. These poems turn searchlights on her troublesome heart as in "The Heart's Conversation," and "How Heart Beats," "A tired fire of muscle," on family incidents from the past, "I moved toward her as a key/when there was no door," observations of the natural world, and to the darkly comic present with wit, irony and courage.
At the heart of the book, an ongoing parade of uninvited visitors appear during the insomniac's long, restless nights. They taunt, judge and cajole her as she enters the midway point of her eighth decade of an examined life: from "Visitors After 2 a.m.:" "The Worries have no eyebrows left from so much bending and twisting. The Shames keep their eyes hidden in a small purse and bring them out only when they are alone." Both real and lavishly imagined, the voices in these poems reflect a rich motherlode of emotion. Surreal fantasy and the language of dreams combine with a cool realistic eye in carefully crafted, intelligent work written with precise language and surprising imagery. This is not a collection for the faint at heart, but valued for its recognition of what Bette Davis reported: "Old age is not for sissies."