In this striking and nostalgic collection, Emily Rose Cole unearths
the fragility and resilience of daughterhood through indelible
imagery that evokes new senses of the body: swallowing keys, rain
lashing eyelids, unzipping of flesh. Grieving self-portraits of
historical and mythological women are woven with stirring
recollections of struggling bodies and evocative spells to overcome
them. Undulating with memories and magic, illness and death, these
poems reveal how a single chance at life and loving can be both too
much and not enough. Her bed,from this angle, looks like an altar.
Isaiah, when you wrote, The wolf will live with the lamb, what did
you mean? Some days, cancer is the wolf. Some days, the wolf is
Mama. -excerpt from "Still Life with Lines from Isaiah"
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