In the Tree Where the Double Sex Sleeps

Winner of the 2018 Iowa Poetry Prize, the dazzling third collection from Schlegel (January Machine) is part fable, part meditation on fatherhood. Many of these poems are set in nature, which can be sinister (the place where “the owl made a nest in my dry mouth”), but also the site of stark, wonderfully crafted images: “Addicted to starlings/ the sumac shines.” Schlegel’s poems unwind with a logic all their own that is still somehow comprehensible: “But language is not my first language.” These poems are full of pitch-perfect internal rhymes with well-orchestrated line breaks: “such violent forces. The children’s/ voices. I talk to my doctor, but forget/ his orders.” Schlegel captures the everyday wonders of raising children and the requisite fears, such as hoping that a child’s quick temper is not a sign of more significant issues to come. Elsewhere, Schlegel is playful, as in the poem “Searches,” which, presumably, recounts a list of recent questions posed to the internet: “Will juniper berries make me crazy/ Can I really eat breakfast at Tiffany’s/ What if an asteroid/ What if a Metroid/ How do moons sex.” This slim volume covers remarkable emotional terrain with perceptive insight into fatherhood and the inner workings of a poet’s associative thought process. It is rich and complex but utterly accessible, with lyrical lines that beg to be read aloud. [em](Apr.) [/em]