Patricia Giragosian's chapbook, Closer to Home, was published this year by Concord River Press. Her poems are published or forthcoming in Harvard Review, The Boston Globe,   The Connecticut ReviewSojourners, The New Hampshire Review, Euphony, The Notre Dame Review, and other literary journals.  She is the recipient of the 2005 Poetry Chapbook Finalist Award of Bright Hill Press, supported by the New York State Council on the Arts. Several of her published poems are collected in the archives of The Boston Athenaeum.  Currently she is preparing her first book of poems for publication in Boston and is at work on a local history and a novel.


"The Shape of Water" is the recipient of the Gretchen Warren Award, given by The New England Poetry Club for the best printed poem of the previous year.


2010 Update:

"Isabella's Garden" won Honorable Mention in the Rosalie Boyle / Norma Farber Award for the Sonnet, New England Poetry Club.


2012 update: 
Patricia's poem "Battleground" received Honorable Mention in the 2012 contest for the Daniel Varoujan Award given by the New England Poetry Club.









Patricia Giragosian


                          The Shape of Water                                     
                          It was the moment of longing that
                                     brought currents back,
                          the gleam of  your shoulders and
                                     arms in sunlight, the thrilling lave
                          of early fall; I did not look
                                     far beyond you and this,
                          our settling place, was a den of magic
                                     much larger than your dreams
                          of me. When desire is burdened with light         
                                     there is no solace in the isolating
                          moment, the cooler daybreaks by which
                                     time is marked as it thins out fast
                          in the streets around us, mirrors
                                     of traffic that flag opaque currents,
                          lost years. I always see you
                                     in late afternoon. Your hands
                          draw me to the merge of sky and tides
                                     and I stay alert to the sweetness
                          between us, the ridge above swift-running
                                     water and the sun holding you



                      (LOUISIANA LITERATURE, 2007)