The Gone Thing

McClure (Tender Data) guides readers through a jarring and poignant critique of cultural and societal norms in her unrestrained second collection. Images shift from the starkly colloquial to the hauntingly lyrical: “Who doesn’t/ Want to feel horseradish vodka sizzling over an ice luge? I’m so/ Inundated with lilac promises of fame” (“Rising Furies”). The syntax of these poems flows from terse, fragmented phrases that capture fleeting moments of clarity to longer, winding sentences that mirror the labyrinthine paths of introspection: “When verses scan the sand like sulfur/ the air is limp/ It fans infections toward farmers/ who pipe slowly/ the only words they have” (“Paris My Daughter”). This shifting line structure is not merely a stylistic choice but a reflection of the collection’s emotional energies. Lines such as “Blessed are the crimes of the American poor” (“The Carrot and the Stick”) and “And then there are cops// Rich people/ helping poor people/ become acceptably poor” (“Sermon”) reveal a critical stance toward present inequities, urging a reevaluation of accepted values. This volume intimately and expansively weaves personal anecdotes with broader societal observations. (Oct.)