2023 Eric Hoffer Book Award Finalist! Kim Dower’s poetry has been described by the Los Angeles Times as “sensual and evocative . . . seamlessly combining humor and heartache,” and by O Magazine as “unexpected and sublime.” Acclaimed for combining the accessible and profound, her poems about motherhood are some of her most moving and disarmingly candid.  I Wore This Dress Today for You, Mom is an anthology of her poems on being a mother—childbirth to empty nest—as well as being a daughter with all the teenaged messiness, drama and conflict, to finally caring for one's mother suffering from dementia. Culled from her four collections as well as a selection of new work, these poems, heartbreaking, funny, surprising, and touching, explore the quirky, unexpected observations, and bittersweet moments mothers and daughters share. These evocative poems do not glorify mothers, but rather look under the hood of motherhood and explore the deep crevices and emotions of these impenetrable relationships: the love, despair, joy, humor and gratitude that fills our lives. “What we inherit from our mothers, what we carry forward, what we never receive, and what we choose to leave behind—Kim Dower’s poetry resonates with the echo of a rich and complex mother-daughter relationship that she gently and carefully unravels, line by line. This is a stunning collection from a poet whose wisdom as a daughter and a mother shines through on every page.” —Hope Edelman, author of Motherless Daughters "Featuring gorgeous gems from Dower's four poetry collections and new pieces energized by the sheet power of her wit and irreverent style,  I Wore This Dress Today for You, Mom  will make readers both groan at and delight in recognition of the everyday absurdities and magical moments that add up to a lifetime of irreplaceable memories."  —Shahina Piyarali, Shelf Awareness "[Kim Dower's] fantastic new collection, 'I Wore This Dress Today for You, Mom,' revolves around quotidian details of domestic life – washing dishes, doing laundry – but existential questions are always lurking beneath the surface."  —Ron Charles, The Washington Post "Lit up with sudden lyricism ("Her body releasing mist from the hurricane inside her"), Dower's sharply observed quotidian detail will draw in even casual readers of poetry." —Barbara Hoffert, Library Journal "Sur­pris­ing­ly com­pli­cat­ed, these poems entreat us to pay atten­tion to the peo­ple we love, and to cre­ate sit­u­a­tions in which we our­selves may be remem­bered lov­ing­ly and poetically." —Stephanie Bar­bé Ham­mer, Jewish Book Council "Dower’s poems inhabit a world self-conscious of its own aging and eventual, inevitable collapse, with the thin narrative of what’s passed down in a family holding the discordant pieces together. Through the examination of motherhood from both ends, as a daughter and as a mother, Dower raises questions about the legacy of learned values and behavior, asking the question: what happens when, with time and distance, the memories we inherit decay?"—Brian Sonia-Wallace, Angel City Review “In Chinese, the written character for “mother love” is composed of two elements—”love” and “pain.” Kim Dower understands this universal concept in her bones and captures its meaning in these beautiful and powerful poems.” —Lisa See, New York Times bestselling author of The Island of Sea Women Reviewed in Midwest Book Review - Featured in The San Diego Union-Tribune - Interviewed on Author2Author - Interviewed on The Kathryn Zox Show - Reviewed on WBZ Book Club - Interviewed for The San Diego Union-Tribune - Interviewed on Broadway at The Russian Tea Room - Interviewed on Moms Don't Have Time to Read Podcast Kim Dower , Former City Poet Laureate of West Hollywood, has published four highly acclaimed collections of poetry, including the Gold Ippy Award winning collection Sunbathing on Tyrone Power’s Grave . She has been nominated for four Pushcarts, is widely anthologized, and teaches writing workshops for Antioch University, the West Hollywood Library, and UCLA Writer’s Extension. She resides in West Hollywood, California. I wore this dress today for you, mom, breezy floral, dancing with color soft, silky, flows as I walk. Easter Sunday, and you always liked to get dressed, go for brunch, maybe there’s a good movie playing somewhere? Wrong religion, we were not churchgoers, but New Yorkers who understood the value of a parade down Fifth Avenue, bonnets in lavender, powder blues, pinks, hues of spring, the hope it would bring. We had no religion, but we did have noodle kugel, grandparents, dads who could fix fans, reach the china on the top shelf, carve the turkey. That time has passed. You were the last to go, mom, and I still feel bad I never got dressed up for you like you wanted me to. I had things, things to do. But today in LA, hot the way you liked it—those little birds you loved to see flitting from tree to tree— just saw one, a twig in its m