you slipped into your flesh suit, its rosy padding, and zipped it up, little latch throbbing in your throat? A slide of light, sip
Swim on, beached beauty, agog in the chilly marsh, aglow without scales or skin. May the jut of your jaw, your eyeless eyes, guide
Review by Melissa Reeser Poulin Kristin Berger’s newest collection of poems is a storm moving across the desert: expansive, quick moving, and deeply satisfying.