Biography of Sarah Lindsay
Sarah Lindsay (born 1958) is an American poet from Cedar Rapids, Iowa. In addition to writing the two chapbooks Bodies of Water and Insomniac's Lullabye, Lindsay has authored two books in the Grove Press Poetry Series: Primate Behavior (a National Book Award finalist) and Mount Clutter. Her work has been featured in magazines such as The Atlantic, The Georgia Review, The Kenyon Review, The Paris Review, Parnassus, and Yale Review. Lindsay has been awarded with the J. Howard and Barbara M.J. Wood Prize. Her third book of poetry, Twigs and Knucklebones (Copper Canyon Press, 2008), was selected as a "Favorite Book of 2008" by Christian Wiman, editor of Poetry magazine. Her most recent book of poems is Debt to the Bone-Eating Snotflower (Copper Canyon Press, 2013) was a 2013 Lannan Literary Selection.
Lindsay graduated from St. Olaf College with a B.A. in English and creative writing, and holds an M.F.A. in creative writing from the University of North Carolina at Greensboro. She currently lives in Greensboro, North Carolina, and works as a copy editor at Pace Communications.
Sarah Lindsay Poems
Tell the Bees
Tell the bees. They require news of the house; they must know, lest they sicken from the gap between their ignorance and our grief. Speak in a whisper. Tie a black swatch
No animals were harmed in the making of this joyful noise: A thick, twisted stem from the garden is the wedding couple's ceremonial ram's horn. Its substance will not survive one thousand years,
Of Mina-sarpilili-anda II, the only surviving record is this splendid bas-relief in which he presses the neck of his Hittite foe
The So-called Singer of Nab
They have left behind the established cave with its well-worn floor. Scholarship impels them in hundreds, but generally one by one,
For RLB Pass by the showy rose, blabbing open, suckling a shiny beetle;
She's slicing ripe white peaches into the Tony the Tiger bowl and dropping slivers for the dog poised vibrating by her foot to stop their fall
Shanidar, Now Iraq
When bones and flesh have finished their business together, we lay them carefully, in positions they're willing to keep, and cover them over. Their eyes and ours won't meet anymore. We hope.
Rain of Statues
From the Mithridatic Wars, first century BC Our general was elsewhere, but we drowned. While he rested, he shipped us home
Makris Is Fallen
The dog came back, grinning and smelling of carrion, and her husband behind it, stride and gestures too large for the house. His field voice, cracking,
Hollow Boom Soft Chime: The Thai Elephan...
A sound of far-off thunder from instruments ten feet away: drums, a log, a gong of salvage metal. Chimes
Elegy for the Quagga
Krakatau split with a blinding noise and raised from gutted, steaming rock a pulverized black sky, over water walls that swiftly fell on Java and Sumatra.
Themiscyra, 72 BC While Lucullus raided cherry orchards, he left us to besiege, grudgingly, this outlander fortress,
Elizabeth Bishop leaned on a table, it cracked, both fell to the floor. A gesture gone sadly awry. This was close to fact
Elegy for the Quagga
Krakatau split with a blinding noise
and raised from gutted, steaming rock
a pulverized black sky, over water walls
that swiftly fell on Java and Sumatra.
Fifteen days before, in its cage in Amsterdam,
the last known member of Equus quagga,
the southernmost subspecies of zebra, died.
Most of the wild ones, not wild enough,
grazing near the Cape of Good Hope,