Jarvis' book deals head-on with grief. Her poems are meditative and slow-paced and deep and still and beautiful. She talks of a spouse's deterioration and loss, a father's abuse and deaths, a mother's loss. Her touch is in no way melodramatic or attention-seeking. The poetry provides a space in which the worst can happen, and be stared at, with remove and love. Buy here.
Because he's ill and can't, I change / the clocks, forgetting the faceted crystal / with silver hands beside his bed. So when he tells me / I'll be late, I know better. I always know / better now and say so. As though / he's already gone, as though it's really possible / to change the clocks.
My Lost Coat
The black suede trench / I saved up for-- / the store beyond the reach-- // first time out, flying east / to west to meet you that secret / winter, I left it on the plane. / I must have known // I wouldn't need it there, sand / so hot we raced to water, // as though to burn, I would leave-- / everything behind me, the coat, the dark / shape of my life.