(At) Wrist

Poets have been writing about love for centuries, so it is thrilling when a new voice comes along capable of breathing new life into old structures. In (At) Wrist, Tacey Atsitty melds inherited forms such as the sonnet with her DinÉ (Navajo) and religious experiences to boldly and beautifully seek a love that can last for eternity.

Celebrating and examining the depth and range of her relationships with men, Atsitty tenderly shares experiences of being taught to fish by her father, and, in other poems, reveals intimate moments of burgeoning romantic love with vulnerability and honesty. Through these poems, grounded in a world both old and constantly remade, she reminds us that it is only by risking everything that we can receive more than we ever imagined. The result is a collection that lives simultaneously under the stars and in our dreams.

All I know is it’s the season 

when wind comes crying, like a baby

whose head knocks a pew during the passing 

of the sacrament, that silence— 

her long inhale filling with pain.

Excerpt from “A February Snow”