In The Heaven Of Never Before by Carine Topal Editors: Ricki Mandeville, Michael Miller "There is not a page in this collection in which the reader does not feel the attentive poetic hand and steady empathy that marks all of the volumes of poetry we come to love most." -- David St. John "One feels gorgeously transported by Topal's lyric gift and by the bright force of her vision, wherein our suffering and our consolations are inextricably bound, 'traceable to the blossom of all things.'" -- Dorothy Barresi "At the heart of this book are poems about family, about birth and dying, and the complicated love that endures. They remind us to pay attention in our lives, to try to notice everything." -- Ellen Bass

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Carine Topal, a native New Yorker, has anthologized the poetry of special needs children and participated in the grassroots organization California Poets in the Schools. In 1994, her first collection of poetry, "God As Thief," was published by the Amagansett Press.  Her work has appeared in Water-Stone, Caliban, Pacific Review, Greensboro Review and many other journals throughout the U.S. and Canada. In 2004, she was nominated for a Pushcart Prize, and in 2005, awarded a residency at Hedgebrook, as well as a fellowship in St. Petersburg, Russia. She is the recipient of numerous poetry awards, including the Jane Kenyon Poetry Prize, and most recently, the 2007 Robert G. Cohn Prose Poetry Award from California Arts and Letters. A special edition chapbook, “Bed of Want,” was published by Black Zinnias in January 2008.

Packing for Rain

Because we were happy
in our flesh, facing the garden
in our wooden chairs,

the thought of caution came to me:
having lived in the shadow
of death for so long, I saw my life

as living out the luck of those
who loved me; those given days
that could be taken away.

So, dearest, I give my luck to you
here, in the summer
of miraculous orange and green,

and when I am dead,
when the crowds of friends
have finally wept and gone,

you might long for a new life
in the sweet air
or a week in the country.

Remember to pack for rain,
count the joys before you
no matter how small.

Dark and light will manage in one
room, as when I carried our son inside me.
Open the window for the sounds of birds.

If you are lonely in the house without me
I won't mind, should you intend
to be gentle and fall in love again.

Now, come rest on the flowered chair
that gives off the welcome of violet light.
Curl up, as we do, and read.