When I can see the wholeness of the moon, though only a crescent is lit white; when I call to the head of a
Before dawn when sleep is the only body the body knows, when darkness curves like warm breath, a branch above a river, over pillows,
Reviewed by Danielle Hanson Creature, Wing, Heart, Machine is L.S. McKee’s first collection of poetry, and it is a marvelous debut. The pacing is