Through carefully crafted lyrics—consider the cascade of “a hunt to unveil / a gift, / steady the numb drug of existence”—where titles often double as first lines, Theresa Senato Edwards adeptly channels aspects of the archetypal Moirae: a daughter / sister / wife / mother in a “fight with memory on its phantom timeline.” Her protagonist flits through familial relationships—father and mother, two sisters, a husband and ex-husband, two sons—while facing the anxieties of what she’s inherited, what decisions she’s made, and what biological and habitual narratives she may have imparted. ~ Matthew Hittinger
"Apple Trees at Peach Hill Park"
Recorded via Zoom, Poughkeepsie Public Library District
Closet--Contrapuntal Performance Poem
From Voices Through Skin
Recorded via Zoom by Poughkeepsie Public Library District for the Nov. 2020 Evening of Poetry
Praise for Theresa's books:
"Man folds me along the edges," Theresa Senato Edwards writes, "like fresh linen mother placed in dresser drawers." Edwards' poetry is a brave and endearing exploration in the meaning of womanhood in contemporary America. To write as a woman is to be political; and through her crisp language and sharp imagery, this book [The Music of Hands, first ed.]
leaves nothing unturned. ~ Ocean Vuong
Theresa Senato Edwards' poems [in Voices Through Skin] bring to mind Georgia O'Keefe's evocative flower paintings. However, in their journey between mind and body, the petals have withered; the colors have fractured into becoming even more fervent in their desire to live after being touched by loss and anguish. ~ Arlene Ang
Lori Schreiner's portraits and Theresa Senato Edwards' poems [in Painting Czeslawa Kwoka ~ Honoring Children of the Holocaust] give voice to the voiceless, the silenced children of the Holocaust. Schreiner and Edwards pay homage through simple, human gestures of art and poetry. This is a powerfully illuminating and memorable work, haunting in its intensity. ~ Ivy Alvarez
I truly enjoyed reading and mulling over Theresa Senato Edwards' carefully constructed short lines within this lovingly rendered 24-page story poem [Green], focusing on small but unique and impactful family memories of old plants growing inside new eyes, of "blood spots seeping through / the indexes," of a youthful mind's ever growing library: parts of the stacks rising and evolving, parts of the stacks worried about losing their vibrancy, growing stale, and falling down. ~ Juliet Cook
The preciousness of time passing, the humbling legacies and pain-both sharply physical and hauntingly figurative-of desire, all become charged with insight in Edwards' intense and fiercely lyrical voice. ~ Cyril Wong
