Walking the Dog’s Shadow rose to the top of nearly 800 submissions to win the 9th annual A. Poulin, Jr. Poetry Prize. Tony Hoagland, who served as final judge for the contest, writes, “Deborah Brown's poems remind me a little of the great Polish poet, Wislawa Szymborska. They both make thinking look easy…Brown's poems aren't just about a eureka moment; they taste of the whole journey. Walking the Dog's Shadow is a beautiful book, wise and sure of itself, fresh with wit and gravity, serious and true.”
The waning moon is sharp at both ends,
it hurts your heart coming and going.
Stars lie to each other, that’s why they
flicker. We tell stories, try to love,
try to make sense and end up on a swing
kicking the air out from under ourselves.
From the centrifuge, news of other particles:
atoms, cars parked in a blizzard within earshot,
unreachable. The last story you sent me burned
the motherboard until it smoked. Language is a fire
extinguisher on the ropes of the familiar.
We sink into the circles of hell’s dialect.
From the rooftop,
one of our stars shouts instructions.
© BOA Editions, 2011.