In this temporal landscape, the natural world becomes a touchstone, both entangled in and standing apart from the speaker's internal narrative: "I brought from that forming hour a / precise smell of foliage: funeral wreaths / bore an acid scent." Shifting fluidly through time, the speaker grows from a child to understand, reflect and then outlive his parents. Finally, the collection lights on the incongruities and contradictions in death: "still later I kick his flattened corpse / to the gutter, and it skids on concrete / a broken valise, weightless / on this segment of the journey."
With his characteristic humour, subtlety and ability to find transcendence in the everyday, Zieroth traces the delicate strands connecting the most minute and familiar details to the most profound mysteries, giving voice to the unknowable.
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