Sharon Rose Dunn
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 My Brother and I : Poems
Finishing Line Press, 2012, chapbook: 28 pages  
"Over the course of a lifetime, perhaps one of the most complex, mysterious, and--if the people involved are fortunate--sustaining emotional and psychological relationships within a family is that between siblings.  In these twenty-six sometimes painful, always honest poems, Sharon Dunn explores this terrain and honors what she finds there.  These are love poems in the most encompassing sense of the term."
      -- Andrea Hollander, author of Woman in the Painting  and The Other Life

Contact the author to arrange to purchase a copy:  
sharonrosedunn@gmail.com


 Bath Time
He was out of work
​
seven years, after 
five in the army,
two in combat.

He stood us side by side 
against the tub
and flapped a worn towel
to dry his hairless animals.

Out of his empty days
he made stilts, a miniature table 
and chairs for our room,
small fan-back chairs
for the yard.  And
identical chests 
like wooden coffins,
for toys.
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Refugees in the Garden: A memoir in poems
The Rose Press, 2009, 66 pages
"From the New Hampshire State Hospital grounds where her mother worked as doctor to the more
open New England landscapes where she herself has settled, Sharon  Dunn marks with beautiful and sometimes disturbing detail the places and generations of her life.  Dunn has worked deeply in the
difficult gardens of her childhood, which is explored in the first half of the book; in the second, "the dark that is home" in childhood is movingly resolved through involvement with her own family.  
The careful parenting with which Dunn undoes the hurts of the past is mirrored by the careful construction of these wonderfully understated poems, in which every image, every minutely recounted action is resonant." -- Martha Collins, author of  Admit One: An American Scrapbook,  Day Unto Day,
​White Papers,  and Blue Front


Genes 
My eleven year son wants to fish,
he owns two rods, one saltwater,
one freshwater.  He loves knives,
Bowie knives, Swiss Army
knives.  "Knives like this one?"
my brother says, opening his desk 
drawer and taking out a small
jackknife with antler handle.
My boy camps outdoors, begs to sleep
outside, is always shooting
arrows, rubber band guns,
he is lashing together a fort
in the backyard.  He sails,
swims, kayaks and wants
to know the stars.
The outdoor hunting genes
are in the dark men in my family.
Yet I believe he is the son of light.
His joy in reading, cooking
and piano are fanned
from the tinder box
of his father's heart.
He will save rainforest,
he will grow vegetables,
keep horses, fly his own plane.
He will make his own brave life,
he will not remake our lives
nor redeem us, nor pity us.
​

Listen to Garrison Keillor read this poem on The Writer's Almanac: 
http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2012/09/27

​Contact the author to arrange to purchase of this limited edition book:  sharonrosedunn@gmail.com

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