We are entirely enthused to announce A Horse Made of Fire, Heather Bell’s heartbreaking and poignant collection of poetry about the traumas of motherhood, will be the fifth book published by Cobalt Press. This collection will stick to your ribs. It might just break you.
Heather Bell, whose poem “These Are the Casualties” appeared in Cobalt‘s eighth issue and second print volume, lives in Oswego, NY, where she writes and mothers two small warriors. Her work has been nominated for the 2009, 2010 and 2011 Pushcart Prizes, and has appeared in Rattle, Poetry/Artists, Red Fez, and many other publications. Bell graduated from SUNY Oswego and has since learned to make her own beer, which is mildly relevant.
Read “When the World Does Not Come Easily,” a poem from A Horse Made of Fire below.
WHEN THE WORLD DOES NOT COME EASILY
When the world does not come
easily, we find blue feathers in our
backyards and we make houses
out of these feathers and these feathers
blow away with just a light wind, as
we knew they would. “I’m not trying to be
profound or poetic by saying these
things,” I told my husband. “I just
thought that they were the right words
and eventually you would figure it
out.” I could not say terror or
new species of love so I said
what I could say. I could not say stop
or why so instead we argued
for hours about feathers. Feathers.
There was a ugly little bird I found
dead in my yard yesterday, which I did not bury,
but picked up and threw into our
trash bin. In your bird book, it calls him
a blackcap. I always thought
sadness was like that, a black helmet
or dog pelt over your head. I felt
so sorry after that, dug him out of
the garbage and covered him in blue
tissue paper. I left him in your briefcase,
beak pointed up and open as though
he was about to speak.