oblivion, the cruelest place to be — line adapted from Gregory Orr in this museum of the catastrophic, this gallery of specimens… I pet
When she fell from the sky, she fell from a tree and down the stairs. Her bone and wing broke. A bone is composed
Review by Bernadette McBride If memory is “the weight of stones,” as Geraldine Connolly writes in “Aileron,” the situating poem of her latest book