You know me,” writes Debora Greger in “To a Glass Lizard,” “packing to cross an ocean/ in search of something/ overlooked in my backyard.”

Indeed, much of the work gathered in In Darwin’s Room, Greger’s tenth book of poems, ranges far afield in quest of something elusive that may be hidden close to home. In this rich collection, Greger travels in space and time, circling what feels like a central emptiness or enigma.

The closer she ventures to the recent deaths of her parents—In Darwin’s Room is dedicated to their memories—the more individual the voice in the poems becomes, and the more intriguing the exploration of early memories of family and education.

Loss, though, is the predominant theme throughout

 

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