Mere Extinction

' Christie s audacious writing pulses with life and, yes, movement. Globe and MailIn Evie Christie s third book mothers nurse babies as the world comes to an end, fathers hustle or drift, the pastoral and the present collide, violence, love, and death gently fill the space and time they have been given. As surreal as they are domestic, Christie s poems navigate the world they are in, struggle with history, the immediate, and what Richard Polt s investigation of Heidegger would describe as the emergency being. Bog GirlAfter Seamus HeaneyI waited too long, was left waitingand here I am in my fruit-white youth,too young to go untouched, a balmy small-town dream touched up with pink where it mattered.Remember the ways you wanted to touch and did notand finally broke in through the window and diduntil I got smart and found their sophistication: loveless bliss,made over and over til the earth packed under my nailswas gone. Find me here, waiting, gone blue and winter cold,make out my parts from the windowsill,not gleaming, all the same, the same as ever.'