Shaped in the crucible of grief, and “the crux of pain,” Phyllis Stowell’s piercingly honest poems trace the arc of suffering that shapes widowhood. their dramatic reflections on the need simultaneously to “keep him near” yet become “not the other of him” will speak to all who have felt split in two by the loss of a deeply loved partner or spouse even while their courageous confrontations of desolation and isolation will strengthen anyone who shrinks from the need to mourn.
— Sandra M. Gilbert
Profound grieving, as anyone who has experienced it knows, is not a systematic undertaking, but a series of unpredictable mood-states, the darkest extreme altering over time, but never entirely vanishing. A poetics of process could be put to no better use than to chart these wave-like recurrences. In this beautiful longer work, Phyllis Stowell remains an experimental poet, but achieves a new and heartbreaking simplicity.
— Alan Williamson