i find myself concurring with the an image from the poem obsession that was offered by the writer of this  introduction to this that encapsulates what i admire so much about this collection, a rottweiler holding butterflies in its mouth instead of eating, and letting them go. such steel purpose, such delicate and constant flow, such intentionality and awareness of impact, brutality in the cage, mercy in the release. deep mystery. singular imagery.

the relationship between master and student or master and slave or father and son or abuser and victim. and the layers to that abuse, so deep with hurt and devotion. notable to vectors of analytical interest for me—i see echoes of sexual abuse along with the physical; burning, violation, resignation to ownership taken of your body, the narrator shifting between space of slave and son and abandoned wife. collected some one these echoes:

“How much of me did he take and how much / did I give him?”

“I imagine him reading this / telling me none of it happened”

“Here is the truth: I met him when I was six / I met him when I was twelve
Year after year doubt
rooting deeper in my mind: / is this / this is not / this is not—
This is not the life I was given.
Am I confused? / Am I telling the story correctly?
For years, he wasn’t allowed near children other / than his own”

“My whole life, you treated me like a dream
you would write down when you woke.
And here we are. I lie beside your body
in the tall grass. The wolf tattooed on your chest
saunters onto mine, makes a bed
of my torso, and falls asleep.
Its jaws hanging open,
teeth brushing against my throat.”

“Sometimes, the lost child enters my dreams
He confesses the sins of his master
as he unravels a spool of red silk from his hands”

“What is a penchant for violence / if not an inheritance
a rhythm / thrumming inside you
a wasp in the heart”

“Somewhere, one of them staggers from bed
to bed, blindfolded, naked
his arms and chest still wet
from a shower, muscles like rain clouds
before a storm.
Hands stretched out before him,
he laughs as he searches the room
for my body.”

i read all of these aloud. i felt them, vibrating through me. every poem felt urgent and expansive. instant inspiration. thank you poem of the day for introducing me to this author.

my favorite poems from the collection: mythomania (my #1 — a lynchpin, delightfully explorative and striking in form), nocturn no. v, drawing of a skeleton, every scar is an eye which has seen too much, ripening, patrimony, testing the water, obsession, what is left, day one, specter, training in yizhuang. yes this is probably a majority of the collection— i really fucking loved it!