"In Martha McCollough's Wolf Hat Iron Shoes, we witness a deeply observant and questioning mind guide a bright pointer across the planetarium of our current and pending disasters-from dystopia and pandemic to colliding galaxies. What's most affecting is the bravely undefended lyricism this poet deploys to scout an era in which "all the home-come chickens / weigh the branches into downward arcs." The solitary speaker into whose ruminations we enter in these impeccably paced poems makes measurable the weight felt by one individual "open to the sky / a humming / a glass dome[,]" and we recognize that burden as our own. -Steven Riel"
