Martin's lines are a brief as breath, and cloister us at home, in winter, where the tiny everyday ministrations of love and parenthood are magnified and abundant with meaning. I wanted to tell you something/About the shipwreck/Of fatherhood, of motherhood, the coarse/Sugar leaving us/Shook. Soft wreck of the baby/Greeting each kiss/With an openA/nd drooling mouth, reflex/We don't understand/Heart-blip stuck/Tipping my finger/On the keys, speeding/Memory of yesterday out/The window I'm/Pushing barely open.
"Martin's poems traverse expansive concepts while confined to the space of an apartment, where new parents in the shipwreck / of fatherhood, of motherhood" are cloistered during a brutal winter."Star TribuneIn this spare, poignant collection, Martin invites readers into the microcosm of new fatherhood against a wintry backdrop that produces isolation and intimacy in turn. . . . Martin encourages h
