In this Ottawa writer's first volume of verse, there are trees, of course—catalpas on stained-glass transoms, an ever-present crabappel, nameless species in whose bare branches the winter solstice lurks. There is music, too—a whorehouse tango, a string quartet enthralling a favourite cat, the silky caress of a clarinet along the remembered flesh of adolescence. And visual art, from the Middle Ages through Matisse, is reenacted in vignettes of desire or dereliction.
Barbara Folkart has lived in Germany, France, England, and Italy, worked at the Harvard and Paris Observatories, and received a Ph.D. in medieval French literature. Her poetry has appeared in numerous literary journals, including Arc, The Antigonish Review, Descant, The Malahat Review, Event, and Thumbscrew. Currently she lives in Canada's capital where she teaches translation studies at the University of Ottawa.