Diane Alters' profound encounter with loss-the murder of her son-creates a strange fecundity. How do we carry what is unbearable, nurturing grief until, through endless labor, it gives birth to something else? These poems groan with creation, opening to compassion on all the disappeared of the world, all the Trayvon Martins, all the school children killed in endless shootings. And still, this is a work of great nakedness in which...
Related Subjects
Poetry