What Blooms in the Dark
The poems in What Blooms in the Dark wander through the Blue Ridge Mountains and the grocery store with a mother grieving the death of her preterm twins.
Details:
5” x 7” saddle stitched chapbook
32 pages
Poetry
Ordering from outside the US? Contact us directly at hello@toadhalleditions.ink for shipping costs.
The poems in What Blooms in the Dark wander through the Blue Ridge Mountains and the grocery store with a mother grieving the death of her preterm twins.
Details:
5” x 7” saddle stitched chapbook
32 pages
Poetry
Ordering from outside the US? Contact us directly at hello@toadhalleditions.ink for shipping costs.
The poems in What Blooms in the Dark wander through the Blue Ridge Mountains and the grocery store with a mother grieving the death of her preterm twins.
Details:
5” x 7” saddle stitched chapbook
32 pages
Poetry
Ordering from outside the US? Contact us directly at hello@toadhalleditions.ink for shipping costs.
Molly Bolton (she/they) is a writer, spiritual director, teacher, and occasional bartender living in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. She holds a Master of Divinity from Wake Forest School of Divinity, a Diploma in the Art of Spiritual Direction from San Francisco Theological Seminary, and was trained as a chaplain at Cleveland Clinic, where she served as a staff chaplain for 6 years. Molly teaches spiritual direction and is a weekly liturgy writer for enfleshed, a collective rooted in mutual liberation. She facilitates workshops and grief groups utilizing poetry as a tool for spiritual support.
Molly’s poetry and essays can be found in publications such as Hippocampus Magazine, Susurrus Magazine, and Whale Road Review. Molly was named a 2022 NC Gilbert-Chappell Series emerging poet. She lives with her spouse, their child, a tuxedo cat, and a forest full of salamanders.
Praise for What Blooms in the Dark
All the world at once is what is held in the lines of these poems: the birthers, the babies who will not live, the faces of flowers, the stones, the salamanders, the trees, the saints, the living woman who sings these sentences into a rigorous music of what it is to be alive: and from it comes poetry that will plead and mourn and hunger and bless. I returned again and again to these poems and was nourished.
—Marie Howe, poet