Nancy Nixon is one of those poets whose innate imaginal life defies expectation and traverses boundaries as if they don’t exist. What delight, to be invited along for the ride in Nixon’s first published collection.

Ganesh returns after a long absence

there he is in my bed, waiting, 
this god made manifest 
having moved through time and Bohemia 
sometimes traveling naked 
knowing in advance when he would be needed 

only he denies me the desire 
having turned his head around 
so his trunk falls behind him 
and his tusk carves the wall 
with his night murmurs 

though one of his magnificent arms 
holds me firmly to his body 
I remain awake 
waiting 
for his breath on my neck 

but he hasn’t come for this 
he has come to take my dreams 
gently rock them loose 
mingle them with his own 
giving careful attention to the taste