Beth Gylys, a Professor at Georgia State University and award-winning writer, has published three collections of poetry (Sky Blue Enough to Drink, Spot in the Dark and Bodies that Hum) and two chapbooks (Matchbook and Balloon Heart). Recipient of a fellowship to attend the MacDowell Colony, her work has been featured on the Writers Almanac, Poetry Daily and Verse Daily, and she has had poetry published in many anthologies and journals including Rattle, Barrow Street, Paris Review, Antioch Review, Kenyon Review, Ploughshares, Boston Review, and The Southern Review.

Other poems by Beth Gylys in Verse Daily:
February 5, 2020:   "Soldier Heart" "When you lose your heart, its impossible..."
September 26, 2019:   "Made Bed" "He could have been my lover again that night..."
April 18, 2016:   "What Drives Us" "He was like the key to a cellar..."
April 3, 2016:   "Apron Strings" "I have lied about my mother...."
September 18, 2002:  "Do Not Dive Head-First" "Do not dive head-first in that puddle of mud..."

Books by Beth Gylys:

Other poems on the web by Beth Gylys:
"Bikini Waxes and Taxes"
"Faces"
"Measure of Normal"
Three poems
"Second Marriage"
Six poems
Four poems

Beth Gylys According to Wikipedia.

About Body Braille:

"A book of rhetorical variation, risky admission, and sonnets that move from humor to bone-cutting grief, Body Braille is proof of Beth Gylys's ability to tell the truth: 'You can't keep your eye / from the grotesque growths / that mar its surfaces.' These poems center around a life fully lived given what the eyes might see and what the hands can touch: 'I lifted from one lonely / space to the next, / thinking, love, love, love.'"
—Jericho Brown

"The poems in Beth Gylys's aptly titled new book, Body Braille, honor the D. H. Lawrence imperative that graces one of the book's sections as its epigraph: 'We don't exist unless we are deeply and sensually in touch with that which can be touched but not known.' Beth Gylys achieves something very difficult: vision by tactile means; sensual intimacy without confessional exhibitionism (see 'My Closest Brush with Anarchy'). She can scare you a little ('Anglerfish'), make you laugh and wince in alternate lines ('Bikini Waxes and Taxes'), and impress you with her natural affinity for the villanelle, that most challenging of verse forms. Extending the accomplishment of her previous collection, Bodies That Hum, Body Braille is a lovely hymn to the senses, all six of them, intermingled to their mutual enhancement."
—David Lehman

"Body Braille, Beth Gylys' newest book of poems, considers the erotics of both language and touch, and the ways our bodies navigate the many losses that make up a life. In these poems, Gylys gives us a brave, tender, and extraordinarily honest look at love, in particular the intimacy of second marriage, with its mid-life awareness of mortality, familial grief and betrayal, and our human willingness to trust despite the terrifying violations we have both suffered from and inflicted on others. 'Delicious / will be my paradigm,' Gylys writes, reminding us that, though we may trick ourselves into believing—or saying—almost anything, the body itself never lies, its hungers alive to remind us of our most profound fears, hopes, and desires, keeping us honest where our minds—and tongues—might lead us astray."
—Paisley Rekdal