These sixty-seven poems teem with diamond lines, such as: 'That's how it was, a wave I a windless wind // flowing over my body, I telling me how much I would love ('My Firstborn, My Eddie, Asks What I Remember' 21-24) and 'I lie crosswise on the bed I so the length of the river I will lie I along the length of my sleeping self ' ('Length of the River' 1-4).
In Losing the Ring in the River, Saiser depicts three generations of women, Clara, Emma, and Liz, in moments that clarified or defined their lives: Clara's astute reading of domestic life, especially her sharp divisions with her husband Emma's chase of marital happiness and coping with disappointment and finally, Liz's spark and break from her mother and grandmother's narratives. Familiar with her other books, Lost in Seward County and Bones of a Very Fine Hand, I expected exquisitely etched images and finely tuned phrases, and I wasn't disappointed. I opened up Marge Saiser's latest book of poetry, Losing the Ring in the River, with great anticipation.
