The Unlikeness of Things

The drama of consciousness comes alive in Poitrasson’s inventive English-language debut, which is divided into 11 sections of prose poems. The speaker narrates their internal experiences after the drowning death of a close relative, and the subsequent opening of “a void, troublesome in its thickness.” At times, the speaker experiences a dissolution of self: “Nothing stops the loss, the exile from myself, I am therefore I leak, and I flow to the right, left, in front, back, deep down and head-on, nothing left in the middle.” At others, the speaker’s gaze falls keenly on objects (“I must learn to identify familiar objects, for they are changeless and bear my print”) and the routines of daily life (“I empty the trash, pick myself up. A pile, residue. I sweep, vacuum. Feel the void”). An agile style supports the speaker’s inquisition into the porous borders between things, drawing fluid connections between unlike objects (“My legs are heavy, they pull me down, as if the bed had become a pond”). The cumulative effect of so much grief and self-reflective contemplation can feel cramped and claustrophobic, but the collection brims with moments of uncanny observation and epiphany. This is worth a look. (July)