...though we learn something of the beginning, middle, and end of this story of abuse and self-determination, the ominous last line of "My History As" is a reminder that escape is hardly ever a straight line: "I learned to counter like a torn edge / frayed from the damp. Frayed, leading, necessarily incomplete; in form a number of the poems seem to end like this, circling back the way predatory birds and abusive relationships do. Within these lines the surreal provides cover, protection as we near a certain disquieting truth: that the spectrum of violence-physical, emotional, generational-is often entangled with love in ways not easily swallowed.