Review by Jennifer Martelli
In her poem, “Dead Leaves and Lost Daughters,” Elizabeth Sylvia writes, “Mania splits the mind like a pomegranate, red shell vexed / to mount a spine of arils. Memory, a scattering of seeds.” These seeds are planted throughout Sylvia’s newest collection, My Little Book of Domestic Anxieties. Here, memories take the form of ex-boyfriends, Facebook posts of an old mothers’ group, the shame of a father’s “rattly car / he bought off the town drunk. . .” The anxiety, rendered masterfully by this poet’s clear-eyed writing, is the ever-present tightrope balance between the speaker and her past, which lies fitfully on her shoulders.
The concept of the mother — both the speaker’s and the speaker as mother — underscores this tension. In her sonnet crown, “Mother’s Day,” Sylvia writes, “Midlife heat / flares in my chest, igniting old hurts.” The speaker’s estrangement from her mother is compounded by her own mothering,
“See,” I tell no one
who is listening, “I’ve fucked up less
than others might have, not let emotion
curdle into rage, repressed regrets” —
and still, I know my own daughter sees
I haven’t spoken to my mom in weeks.The sonnet — that little song — is the perfect form for this emotional struggle. The sonnet insists upon constriction, both in line length and in sound. Sylvia constructs a sense of stasis by writing a crown of seven sonnets, each linked by motherhood, and by enclosing the whole poem with “I haven’t spoken to my mom in weeks.” Thus, Mother’s Day becomes every day.
The image of the bird — both constricted and free — flits throughout this book: a goldfinch, sparrows, angelic herons, “the grey cockatiel” in its cage, a “wired golden bird,” and “birds’ sleeping tears.” This last image, from “the largest possible quantity of anything is a lifetime,” where the speaker notes how moths will feed off a bird’s tears, and continues with clarity,
We are
filled & yet float on the tears of others.
In this lifetime, I too have drawn shares
and scavenged from the sorrows
of others for my own pale-nighted wings.The poems in this collection are tender, honest, and graceful. Like the speaker’s daughter who stares at her with “solemn / weighing eyes,” My Little Book of Domestic Anxieties is large in what it encompasses, in its voice, and in its compassion. Elizabeth Sylvia insists that our lives are full of “great things even in their commonness.”
My Little Book of Domestic Anxieties by Elizabeth Sylvia. Ballerini Book Press, May 2025.
Reviewer bio: Jennifer Martelli is the author of Psychic Party Under the Bottle Tree and The Queen of Queens, both longlisted by the Massachusetts Center for the Book. Her work has appeared in Poetry and The Academy of American Poets Poem-a-Day. A Massachusetts Cultural Council Fellow, Martelli is co-poetry editor for MER.
