Thérèse Corfiatis seeks out beauty and spirit in simple things: the curl of a wave, the flight of cockatoos 'yellow-flecked tails flashing / like airborne sunflowers' ('Black Cockatoos'). She searches for ancestral homeland and belonging - 'my dispossession torn away / a birthing wound healed up' ('The Bridge at Csíkrákos') - and presents them to the reader with wonder, honesty and freshness.
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