The Presence of One Word
by Andrea Potos
Cover and page design: Eric Muhr
Cover art: Junel Mujar on Unsplash
57 Poems ~ 75 pages
Price: $19.00
Publisher: Fernwood Press
ISBN: 978-1-59498-173-9
To Order: www.fernwoopress.com or Amazon.com
Reviewed by Michael Escoubas
As I was preparing to write this review, I had emerged from a rough patch in my life. A dear friend and I had exchanged words. Hurt was delivered on both sides. As I lay back in my office chair with Andrea Potos’s latest collection, in hand … I happened onto her tender poem entitled “When the Consolation of a Word Comes to You.” I reproduce it here to illustrate the gentle, healing power in The Presence of One Word:
Not detach, which sounds too much
about the retina, and this is not about the eye
but the heart and its gates–
unlatch and allow yourself to roam
beyond what is hurting you, further into the fields
and meadows–there, find a spot
to kneel down in the deep, fragrant grasses,
make a bed for your body where the summer
is still singing your name.
Ah! Yes! I could not have uttered a better prayer. A fountain of healing words tumbled from the page into my hurting heart. What came to me as a serendipitous gift, I offer as an extended metaphor to Andrea’s readers. This is what her collection is like.
As Marge Piercy has observed: “In The Presence of One Word, we find poems powerful in their well-crafted expression of love. Andrea Potos’s poems catch in the mind and shine there.”
The relative shortness of the poems appealed to me. No poem is more than one page. Many are ten lines or less. The book’s design encouraged me to keep on turning, page to page, like eating chicken and dumplings … comfort food for the heart.
“Late Apology” speaks to real life. In the poem, Andrea apologizes to a “fat June bug / I scrunched under my small bare foot / on my way to the Ferris wheel.” This was fifty years ago. A late realization of a much bigger issue: The recognition that it is never too late to rethink things … to adjust an attitude and maybe even repent.
“Daily Practice” leads the collection and mirrors what this poet (and many) actually do:
Some mornings all I do
is write down words–cistern,
tribal, cached–copying them
from sprawled pages of books
across my desk, words call out–
glimmerings, cursive, saffron,
Heartwood–holding me in place
as if to say listen, you may need me
someday, I might offer you another way
toward beauty, or even beyond.
Did you notice the interlinear long “a” rhyme? “pages,” “place,” “say,” “may,” ”someday,” and “way.” They occur gently, with ease, one barely notices. Good poets have their subtle tricks.
Andrea’s Greek heritage instilled an intense sense of family values and love. “Yaya’s Dresser” is a detailed tour of a small child’s fascination with her mother’s dresser which “reigned / over one half of a whole wall.” It featured curved, mahogany inlaid drawers that were so filled with ladies’ items that Andrea had to use all her strength just to heft them open. There were jewels, scented jars, and powders. All of which her “fingers would settle and sift through … and linger with, as long as she could.”
“Against Despair” is worth the price of the book. It is about Andrea’s indomitable grandparents. Her grandmother weeps at her kitchen sink mourning the death of her three-year-old son. Her grandfather lost all his savings in 1943, stayed in his room for weeks. Her sixteen-year-old mother ”sat upstairs in the office / becoming a grown-up / typing the daily specials.” The best part is the poet’s chronicle of what they all did to overcome despair. Don’t miss this one. Have some tissues nearby.
There is unique honesty in Andrea Potos’s work. She invites you into her life. And you want to go there. No fear, no one-upmanship. Just the delight in being there. I recommend with fondness poems about the passing of Andrea’s mother and father. These resonate with a daughter’s pathos. Poetry is her path to truth and healing. Within the power of words, even one word, lies poetry’s legacy.
“When My Mother Called” is one of those “tell all” poems:
Always the same four words
to begin: Hi, it’s Mom honey,
as if I could ever not recognize
tenderness when it arrived,
the well of kindness in a voice.
And the conversations
that might follow: What did you think
of that article? How is the new coat working out?
Oh you looked so beautiful!
I am loving your book.
I need to get groceries today.
I’ve been thinking of when you were young, and all
those years with your father, how sorry I am
I was so distracted by sadness then.
What time are you picking me up tomorrow?
I’ll be waiting at the living room window;
no, that’s okay, no need to get out of the car,
I’ll be there, looking for you honey, always.
Yes, The Presence of One Word will be there, waiting as a gift to fortunate readers, always.
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