Bashir, Samiya: Where the Apple Falls

Where the Apple Falls by Samiya Bashir (RedBone Press, paperback)

Publication Date: June 1, 2005

Publisher Marketing: Finalist for the Lambda Literary Award in Lesbian Poetry. WHERE THE APPLE FALLS resides at the intersections between woman and female—both human and environmental—and the concepts to which she is often linked: death, rebirth, victim, sexual/perverse. Seasons are crucial: from the birth of Spring through Autumn's final harvest, the work suggests a recasting of the farmer; a reclamation of both the fall and redemption/death/(re)birth on her own terms. Finally, WHERE THE APPLE FALLS highlights the resilience of strength. Even strength denied does not die. Instead, it continues to grow in power, waiting for its calling. WHERE THE APPLE FALLS reminds us to imagine, encourages us to answer the call, to revel in the beauty and possibility that we all embody, to consider our direction and route.

"In her debut collection WHERE THE APPLE FALLS, Samiya Bashir demands we listen and hear the symphony of stories that 'sail on the ochre cushion of these moonlit poems.' In 'Moon Cycling,' she writes: 'Don't come by my door/ Smellin' fresh like that/ Sizzling like summer/ Steak medium rare/ I'll think you are/ My supper.' But she opens the door and her words and images grab us and never let go. She challenges ideas of edginess, religion, beauty, sexuality and imagination. Bashir's language is vivid and compelling in lines like 'Crooked back bowed into the new black moon.' There's remarkable womanness, vulnerability, pain and insight in these lines…WHERE THE APPLE FALLS can at times be a difficult read, as many poems are dense and complex. But here is a new and provocative voice comfortable in the skin of her poems, secure in her poetic vision."—Black Issues Book Review

"Bashir's first book of poems is a moving blend of personal narrative and lyric grace. Poems that deal with the legacy of slavery are haunting, such as the intimacy and danger in 'Floating Down the Delaware': 'Black skin rots cerulean blue. The/ two bodies were found on Thursday/ night. No wonder I can't keep track/ of time.' Bashir's finely crafted lines touch on migration, faith, urban life and the lives of women, never letting their reach slacken."—Curve Magazine