First Comes Love by Beth Ann Cagle

First Comes Love-Cover-front

First Comes Loves
Author: Beth Ann Cagle

Main Street Rag Publishing Company

ISBN: 978-1-59948-516-4
80 pages

Cover Price: $14.00  $10.00

Order from Main Street Rag Online Bookstore.


ABOUT THE BOOK

It’s no wonder Beth Ann Cagle begins her book First Comes Love with a quote from Carol Christ, a well-known writer and educator on women’s spirituality and feminist theology. Ms. Cagle’s poetry explores the places where sensuality and spirituality meet, and where health crises, divorce, and other life challenges are leaping off points for insight and growth. As Christ states, “The ability to face the darkness in [our] lives is an indication of strength, not weakness.” Or as Cagle says in “Fear of Falling”: “I/claim riches behind sight, find/reason to take flight without fear.” Thank you, Ms. Cagle, for creating such a powerful collection where I can experience both the sting of recognition such as in the poem “Coming Loose” and also the laugh-out-loud humor of a poem like “Honeymoon Interrupted—Oak Island, NC.”
—Malaika King Albrecht, Founding Editing of Redheaded Stepchild
Author, What the Trapeze Artist Trusts, Spill, and Lessons in Forgetting

First Comes Love is not just a collection of poems—it is a story, the story of a life, a powerful, moving, sometimes funny story of how the narrator grows and matures through a series of crises from the passionate but immature girl of Part I, through the near-death experiences of Part II, into the mature, intelligent, independent, savvy woman of Part III. You can’t just read SOME of these poems. You have to read the whole book to get the full impact of this story. I loved reading it, both times!
—Anthony S. Abbott, Author, The Angel Dialogues

 

SAMPLE POEM

Honeymoon Interrupted—Oak Island, NC

Pesticide hangs thick in the oceanfront
condo we rented months ago—

so thick my asthma kicks in. I wheeze
all the way to the cheapest inn in town.

The Captain’s Cove looks like a warehouse
on the outside, rooms in rows. Crowded inside.

Bed a foot from the wall. And the shower stall
isn’t built for sex, even if I hadn’t been wheezing.

Next morning, the real estate lady says,
“Every condo on the island’s been sprayed.”

We rent a house real cheap on the bay. For Sale
sign in the yard. First floor under heavy renovations.

Today, the hammering drives us to the Family Dollar.
Deprived of our honeymoon rights,

you say you’re frisky—I’ll call it depraved.
On the toy isle, we find handcuffs.

In the women’s department, scarves
when you can’t find rope.

And I have brought my fishnets with red stilettos—
knowing your hosiery and shoe fetish.

From the bedroom, we hear knocking
at the front door, decide to ignore it—

being mostly naked and all,
not to mention me half tied up.

The second knock goes unheeded. Suddenly, keys
jangle in the lock as the front door squeaks open.

Compromised, I dangle halfway off the bed;
you lunge for jeans as we hear the real estate lady
say, “And this is the living room.”

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