IN PRAISE OF THE LAST ISLAND
In these deft poems Mimi White traces with great sensitivity a landscape of intimacy. It is a place that is hazardous and rewarding, brimming with feeling that has been tried and retried. One reads poetry to deepen one's sense of what it is to be alive–these poems do that with admirable concision. –Baron Wormser
Mimi White's mesmerizing book, The Last Island, is a many-faceted love story and, like love, insists you look again in wonder at history, your own gardens, relationships, children, pets, your nearly unbearable losses, and your own mortality. Through the alchemy of these smart, strong poems, you come to realize just how lucky you are to be alive. In the book's first poem, the narrator, while watching a house burn down, finds herself in a reverie concerning the gifts and grief that come from a passionate relationship. And it's the burning house that stayed with me as I read this book. The body itself is a house, of sorts and living —a fire full of terror but also great beauty. Be prepared as you read for many unexpected transformations, for revelations that arise from the most common events: visiting an old poet in his garden, feeding your beloved dog although you know he will die soon, releasing a newly healed bird into the orchard. And best of all, after you finish reading, these poems stay with you, their richness, their music, their sturdy love returning just when you need them most.