Since Corona Ruined Our Trip to the Library by Beth Gulley

Beth Gruver Gulley captures it all: the truth in the words of a poem that once “just rolled like a chocolate drop” from her 6^th grade tongue, the amazing gift of a twenty dollar bill in “the pocket of some forgotten jeans,”  the way someone’s eyes light up when she enters a room. All those incredibly precious moments we might not note, much less celebrate, had Corona not ruined our trip to the library; had we not lived in a time when we dared not assume we’d make it to summer. Yes, we humans are absurdly inconsistent. We invest in the future with purchases of coffee and snacks and “stamps from the US Postal Service” while insisting that our youth set goals, plan steps for a future we hope to enjoy;  do-gooders are do leave a daunting task of cleaning up a nature trail for another day.  Sure, we have our differences. For some, strike two is just one strike from the end. For others “life is a game of t-ball with our dad,”  who provides “unlimited chances to hit the ball,” while for still others, “getting out of bed and walking on the diamond” means they’re “in the game.”   Reading  Since Corona Ruined Our Trip to the Library. . .  is like coming “into the light”  and finding “a familiar face.”

–Eve Ott

Beth Gulley is a writer of profound insight, someone who can see both the catastrophe and the miracle in almost anything. These poems are proof. In them, there is a cat that rides thirty miles on the motor of a car being towed. There is an asteroid that almost hits earth on a beloved’s birthday: “Your birthday will still be sweet / without the explosion.” This is the world of Aimee Bender or Judy Budnitz, but it is also our world, as Kansans—or your story, wherever you live.
–Kevin Rabas, Poet Laureate of Kansas, 2017-2019, More Than Words