Mine

‘There is no such thing/as refuge or retreat’ ends one of the poems, leaving us changed for the experience of reading-embodied, specific, clear images integral to the experience yet surprisingly new. Emotions build because we are allowed to sense them, to feel them: loneliness and tenderness, sadness that is reflected back in the green eye of a piece of polished malachite, the loss that lurks in the corner of an office, the romance and the longing. This is a collection to savour, full of words that haunt, it pulls us back to find another layer of meaning, and another?