Reviewed by Freesia McKee What strikes me most about How Blood Works by Ellene Glenn Moore is how each poem functions as ekphrasis. The
Let’s sit on the porch in the late afternoon sun— that untarnishable golden glow—and spit sunflower hulls into an old flower pot. The
Even the dry seed husks are silent. There is no sound meaning the air has stopped, is somewhere else—Scituate, Poughkeepsie. Why did it stop
By when the beekeeper came, it was too late. The frenzied flying forth and back was ended, stopped as if wings were unimportant. Finished