In Zoë Sîobhan Howarth-Lowe’s imaginatively written debut, dryads, shifting tarot cards, and stolen conversations with houseplants sit easily beside everyday moments – kisses, showers, cleaning the cooker. There is always something sinister, poignant, or whimsical just under the surface of these poems: they wrap around you slowly – the way bark grows – and leave you feeling like anything is possible.
The poems in this collection cover great distances but there is always a sense of closeness, of being present at every point. The result is a collection of rare intimacy and honesty— poems that grow on the page, lines that dig in and route. These are assured poems, handled with great attention and skill.