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by Whitnee Coy (Author)
In this well-written collection of poetry, We Left Constellations in Each Other, Whitnee Coy takes us through a personal near-tragedy. Her pregnancy develops complications, leaving her two-pound baby teetering on the edge of death's abyss for a frightening length of time. Her tiny infant comes through with a wonderment of miracles that demonstrates an innate fight for survival. This story is a raw, jagged-edged, and honest celebration of the human spirit. Coy dedicates her book to family, friends and ". . . to all those who've walked through the night with a NICU baby - who have held their breath, held tiny hands, and held hope close. This is for the brave hearts who choose to continue."
-Bruce Roseland, Poet Laureate of South Dakota
We Left Constellations in Each Other recognizes the desire for healing - the body, the spirit, the family, and the communities that circulate when new life touches down on this world. Whitnee Coy mines herself as the landscape with stark intersections of death and reinvention in the midst of postpartum recovery. Coy's poems triangulate the trajectories of arrival within the context of the harsh exterior world. In these poems, true North is revealed as the poet's personal and most intimate interiorities. Whitnee Coy maps the raw terrain of motherhood - creation and survival, expectation and grief - while guiding us through the inexactitudes of existence. From the visceral details of birth trauma to the floaty world of post-labor, these poems investigate the singular while echoing with plurality. With a voice both intimate and expansive, Coy bridges family inheritance with future's promise, illuminating the fragile, urgent question at the core of our being: What does it mean to be classified as alive?
-Katelin Kelly, poet and educator
We Left Constellations in Each Other is a tender and daring testament of what it takes to survive. Unafraid, vulnerable, bold. These poems are imprint and tattoo - they mark you with their resolve, their ache, and their every yearning to hold onto someone. A revolving record that loops from new love, to the endless beeping in the ICU, to the rolling hills of Appalachia, to the rich sweetness of belly laughter. This collection will leave you weeping and whole.
-Ellen Hagan, author, Blooming Fiascoes and Hemisphere
