Third Rail

Beth Boylan's Third Rail radiates with raw power. These poems beautifully capture the vivid, often bittersweet, moments of childhood and family, exploring themes of loss, memory, and the search for identity. With keen attention to sensory detail, the speaker weaves memories with the ghosts that linger. Boylan's language is both intimate and stark, drawing the reader into a world where beauty and grief coexist, and where the simple, often overlooked, moments are held in sharp focus. These poems are a meditation on the things we inherit - both the love and the scars - and how we carry them through life, seeking connection and understanding. With tender honesty, Boylan examines the things we leave behind - both physically and emotionally - and the ways we continue to search for meaning in their absence.

-Jeffrey Perkins, author of Kingdom

Beth Boylan's Third Rail teems with images conjured from a childhood still smoldering with loss. This fearless poet pulls us by the hand to introduce us to her family, forces us into devastating conversations, focuses our eyes on velvety moments, and fills our cups with complex wine; all the while, she layers in gorgeous memories to savor, soften, and sweeten the tragic. Boylan recounts love, reexamines it in her palms, holds it to the light. She doesn't spare us grief; she trusts us with immersion. Boylan pens her way to peace, a triumphant artist above the wreckage.

-Dana Kinsey, Lancaster City Poet Laureate, author of Mixtape Venus

Throughout this tapestry that is Third Rail, Beth Boylan skillfully weaves love and loss with elements of escape from a childhood preordained by gender assignment, intense guilt and shame embedded through religious upbringing, and, ultimately, forgiveness for saints and sins of family. Rich with lyrical lushness, these poems take the reader along on an expedition through phases of love throughout childhood and adulthood. Boylan encourages her reader to consider the charged and untouchable third rail and reminds us to salvage what we can and begin again, with hope for next spring.

-Linda Lamenza, author of Feast of the Seven Fishes and Left-Handed Poetry