Gillian Ebersole Boeken

“Born to break our hearts, these exquisite, dusk-blinding,quotidian and canceresque poems seem to bruise easily, seem to breath the language of queerness with such tender accusation, seem so fearless in their candid vulnerability. How can one not love a collection that has the following lines in its last two stanzas: “god is a highchair toddler / who laughs when her feet touch the grass”? or ends one of its poems with this ideal cheekiness: “The Spanish word for dress / is masculine.” These raspberry colored poems here are so smart and so transformative that they are capable of teaching anyone’s tea kettle how to stop sweating entirely.” —Vi Khi Nao, judge of the Charlotte Mew Prize