You're listening to the New Yorker Poetry Podcast. I'm Kevin Young, poetry editor of the New Yorker magazine.

On this program, we invite a poet to select a poem from the New Yorker Archive to read and discuss.

Then they read a poem of their own that's been published in the magazine.

My guest today is Arthur Lasky, the author of several books of poetry and prose, including her forthcoming

collection, The Shining. She's the co-creator with Alex Demetrov of Astroo poets, and she teaches

poetry at Columbia University. Welcome, Dottie. Thank you for joining us. Thank you so much for

having me. It's great to be here. So the first poem you've chosen to read is three songs by Louise Bogan.

What was it about this poem that caught your attention while you were looking through the archives?

Well, I think because I have this book coming out called The Shining, I've been thinking about what makes a terrifying poem.

I don't know too, too much about Bogem, but I knew that she had a long history,

you know, at the New Yorker, and I read her book, Blue Estuaries in graduate school, and I remember

being horrified and scared of her poetry. So I thought she'd be a perfect poet to bring into the discussion today.

We possibly talk about terrifying poetry.

Sounds good.

I know that this was not only in the archive, but the last poem in that book, Blue Estuaries,

which I kind of love as well.

So like a final word.

Yeah. Well, why don't we listen to the poem?

This is D'Othia Lasky reading three songs. Three songs. One, little Lobelia's song. I was once a part of your blood and bone. Now no longer. I'm alone. I'm alone. Each day at dawn,

I come out of your sleep. I can't get back. I weep. I weep. Not lost, but abandoned left behind.

This is my hand upon your mind. I nothing I can barely speak but these are my

tears upon your cheek you look at your face in the looking glass this is the face my

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