Time is a mother /

In this second collection of poetry by breakout star Vuong, following his first novel, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous (2019), he focuses on the complicated relationship with his mother in quiet, astonishing lyrics. Vuong conjoins the figures of motherhood and time (the speaker's mother works at a local clock factory, for example), while drawing from the deep wellspring of his Vietnamese heritage: "I come from a people of sculptors / whose masterpiece was rubble." A formally inventive poet, Vuong's lines form tight columns or zigzag gently down the page. "Amazon History of a Former Nail Salon Worker" employs the language of online shopping to depict the speaker's mother's brief battle with cancer. A long poem, "Dear Rose," echoes the epistolary format of Vuong's novel to grapple with the mother's difficult legacy of illness and trauma. For all its evocative intensity, the book's not without its humor, albeit often dark and pointed: "when a man & a man / walk hand in hand into a bar / the joke's on us." Even the most ostensibly simple moments prove mesmerizing in Vuong's treatment: "When / you get here, I'll show you / this incredible thing / we can do to mirrors / just by standing still."

Vuong's powerful follow-up to Night Sky with Exit Wounds does more than demonstrate poetic growth: it deepens and extends an overarching project with 27 new poems that reckon with loss and impermanence. Braiding past and present, Vuong's speakers contextualize personal traumas within larger systems of dehumanization. Gold becomes a key visual motif for capitalist tendencies: "There is sunlight here, golden enough to take to the bank" and "Because everyone knows yellow pain, pressed into American letters, turns to gold." His skillful technique is evident in elegies such as "Dear Rose," which describes a mother's life punctuated by poignant asides ("are you reading this dear/ reader are you my mom yet/ I cannot find her without you"). "Dear T" offers a meditation on the artistic process: "look--a bit of ink on the pad/ & we're running down the street again/ after the thunderstorm/ platelets still plenty// in veins beneath your cheek." Yet there's a new, biting insouciance and self-awareness in Vuong's voice, "Oh no. The sadness is intensifying. How rude," turning his trademark epigrammatic flair to darkly humorous effect: "Because when a man & a man/ walk hand in hand into a bar/ the joke's on us." This fantastic book will reward fans while winning this distinctive poet new ones. (Apr.)

Vuong (On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous) offers a new collection of poetry that shows him wrestling with grief after the death of his mother. Vuong's poetry juxtaposes being in a state of grief while also attempting to move past it. This collection explores themes of family, loss, and growing up in America during a time of war. The author narrates this deeply personal collection of poetry, providing depth to each of the poems. The listener is let into his world of personal loss and grief, the search for identity, and what it means to grow up as "other" in America. Vuong also deftly links his own grief and pain with that of society at large, connecting current events. In poems featuring lost loves, car accidents, and deaths, one can hear the pain and the struggle in the writing. However, the listener is also left with a sense of hope that things will get better. VERDICT This is a timely collection of poetry and will make a great addition to any library collection.--Elyssa Everling