The color of his eyes had not changed, neither their depth nor their focus; his voice was as relaxed and nasal as the first time he spoke to her in the library. But he was looking through his eyes now, not with them: panes of stonewashed stained glass, and she said, dead-end recognition, Menachem. Something like ice and brandy sunfished up into her throat, sluice and burn past her heart; she put it from her, as she had weeks ago put away her surprise. Wondering for how long this time, she gave her greeting to this new face. I was wondering when youd turn up. Dybbuk: plural, dybbuks or dybbukim; from the Hebrew levadek, to cling or cleave. In Eastern Europe, at the end of the nineteenth century, a restless spirit that possesses a living person until exorcised. On the East Coast, at the beginning of the twenty-first, a dead man with a thousand faces and a single desire . . .

Postcards from the Province of Hyphens marks the debut of Sonya Taaffe's first full-length collection, with nearly fifty poems and prose pieces, including the Rhysling award-winning and -nominated poems, "Matlacihuatl's Gift," "Storm Gods of the Connecticut River Valley," "Green Fuses," "Harlequin, Lonely," and more.

The Devil's School lies down this way. Lot's wife knows your name. Hearts hang in the scales, flesh and clay are one and the same, and the severed head of Orpheus sings in winter waves. In award-winning poet Sonya Taaffe's first collection of short fiction, the boundaries between worlds dissolve to reveal unmasked harlequins and women made of stars, serpentine plagues and New England storm gods, and many other denizens of the spaces between. These songs of innocence and experience, Blake never knew.

The Devil's School lies down this way. Lot's wife knows your name. Hearts hang in the scales, flesh and clay are one and the same, and the severed head of Orpheus sings in winter waves. In award-winning poet Sonya Taaffe's first collection of short fiction, the boundaries between worlds dissolve to reveal unmasked harlequins and women made of stars, serpentine plagues and New England storm gods, and many other denizens of the spaces between. These songs of innocence and experience, Blake never knew.