A spiritually resonant and politically urgent new collection by the
winner of the Lenore Marshall poetry prize
My father was a soldier
who was smaller than my son
when he returned as a ghost.
I begged him to stay with us
but he said: Not until you come to life.
-from [Untitled]
Fanny Howe's bold new collection responds to the contrast between
American imperialist goals and the realities of life lived on the
ground. While our minds are preoccupied with the war games on
television, we go on living among our ordinary joys and appetites. How
can we live under these dissonant conditions and reconcile our existence
with our longings?