Look at Darla Himeles, there on the razor's edge of survival as a Jew, note-taker of past and future extinctions, a poet fearless of science, unafraid of love or laughter. Listen as she sings love songs to the cephalopod dead, the manatees' eyes "cataracted by microplastics, " and the Colorado that "forgets it's a river." Smile as she imagines T.S. Eliot becoming a blue crab. Meditate with her on our own eyes, possible "reservoirs of the Anthropocene's ¿/ last sunlit hours." Himeles helps us know our place as specks of a star, kin to all animals, in poems that dance with the pleasure of language.

-Alicia Ostriker, author of Waiting for the Light