Spider Lake, by Mary MacGowan
To row a boat / you must sit backwards.
The poems in Mary MacGowan’s new collection are beguiling memory portraits, etched sharply, with the insistent resonance of a bell whose note lingers after its music has ceased.
Into the water’s algae opulence we dip our feet, nature’s designs on a rowboat floor laid out like fortune-telling leaves as we bail: The doors of summer will open and close around you. --excerpt, "Doors of Summer"