Kasischke

Ever since I saw her poem "Hostess" in the Poetry Daily 366 Collection, I've adored Laura Kasischke. I couldn't find the poem online and it's mega long, so I'll just brief you on my favorite bits:

In the beginning of the poem, these lines:

He smiles. He says, "I'm
here to ruin your party, Laura," and he does.

...and then, at the end of the poem:

When I
passed him in the hallway by the bathroom, I
thought I heard him say, "Laura, I want

to ruin your life," and, trying to be polite, I said,
"That's
fine." I said, "Make yourself at home."

Here's a newer poem of hers, from the NER (be sure to read it aloud, there's some subtle rhyme schemes at play):

http://cat.middlebury.edu/~nereview/Kasischke.html

Miss Congeniality

There’s a name given
after your death
and a name you must answer to while you’re alive.

Like flowers, my friends—nodding, nodding. My
enemies, like space, drifting
away. They

praised my face, my enunciation, and the power
I freely relinquished, and the fires
burning in the basements

of my churches,
and the pendulums swinging
above my towers.
And my

heart (which was a Boy Scout

lost for years in a forest). And my

soul (although the judges said
it weighed almost nothing
for goodness had devoured it).

They praised my feet, the shoes
on my feet, my feet
on the floor, the floor—
and then

the sense of despair
I evoked with my smile, the song
I sang. The speech
I gave
about peace, in praise of the war. O,

they could not grant me the title I wanted

so they gave me the title I bore,
and stubbornly refused
to believe I was dead
long after my bloody mattress

had washed up on the shore.