Lee Sennish’s singular voice resonates in the world, though the poet herself has left us. In this shining posthumous collection, we can feel her presence like a heartbeat.

I walk into a closet without walls.
Below is a canyon. I hang onto the edge.
The year tips crazily on the scale.
Where is my center, my guide?
There are questions no one can answer.
Maybe the comedians, the lovers,
the man who walked a tight rope
between two towers.

- excerpt, from "Solstice"