Praying to the God of Small Things celebrates our bountiful and threatened natural world, with its "dove-note, fox-stink, char-smell," and all its inhabitants and landscapes, marveling that "this rifled earth can somehow still / spin gold from last year's straw." Jagoe's clear-eyed love for nature takes in her own history ("Mother was the sun with an on/off switch. / Father held a tarantula close to his heart") and the creatures...
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Poetry