The poems in this collection inhabit an intimate landscape of basement bathrooms and neighbourhood pools, places where the familiar becomes strange: a house burns on an empty highway; Jesus has his portrait made by a hobbyist painter in a linoleum-tiled room.
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The poems in this collection inhabit an intimate landscape of basement bathrooms and neighbourhood pools, places where the familiar becomes strange: a house burns on an empty highway; Jesus has his portrait made by a hobbyist painter in a linoleum-tiled room.
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