Kim-An Lieberman’s poems are like grandma’s best recipes. Her finely sliced imagery bastes in the everyday with a pinch of the mythic for good measure, yet sealed tightly by the foil of narrative—translating medical terminology for a foreign grandmother; rescuing tomatoes from the stranglehold of morning glory; or lamenting the loss of a winged-lover who flew the coop for another woman.
Kim-An Lieberman’s poems are like grandma’s best recipes. Her finely sliced imagery bastes in the everyday with a pinch of the mythic for good measure, yet sealed tightly by the foil of narrative—translating medical terminology for a foreign grandmother; rescuing tomatoes from the stranglehold of morning glory; or lamenting the loss of a winged-lover who flew the coop for another woman.
