Reviewed by Basia Wilson In crafting a poem, any good poet knows to consider the myriad ways a reader may approach their work. Take,
Spring lilacs show slow in April, wet and late. Daffodils, bluebells, tulips, show sooner. Cynthia yearns for the lilac in my coat pocket. The
I left the laptop open like a mouth; walked to the other end of the room; stared at the greening water in the vase
in terrible cold, the space heater shivering the teapot chasing its boil, the street, unfurling through warped glass in ash, brick, and snow, and