Worth Burning

The smoldering debut from Kennedy traces his coming of age as a gay man in the 1990s against the backdrop of the AIDS crisis, his tumultuous straight marriage, and the trauma of being raised by an alcoholic mother. Whether he’s outlining his dual life before coming out or the darker moments of abuse at his mother’s hands, Kennedy exhibits a remarkable ability to state his aims clearly and honestly. In “Sheraton by the Airport,” he writes of hooking up with the man who mows his lawn, “But I want him/ to touch my cheek and rip/ my blindfold off, so he can stop/ being everyone/ and no one.” “The Gamble, 1992” is similarly strong: “They wanted/ what I had, which was close/ to being wanted.” These poems comprise searing portraits of the poet, his family, and others. The narrative arc tracing Kennedy’s relationship to his mother—from abuse and molestation to her later mental deterioration and dementia—holds enthralling heat. Lines from the title poem about his mother burning trash feel like an apt summation of how the memories herein haunt and harrow poet and reader alike: “There’s always a piece, she says,/ whacking the side of the barrel./ A goddam piece/ that just won’t burn.” This is an accomplished first effort. (Feb.)