… him slipping into transparency –
The feathered helmet already in place,
Its shadow fallen across his face
(His hooded sex its counterpart) –
Unsteadies the routines of the heart.

That’s from “Mercury Dressing”, by J.D. McClatchy, a poem I’ve read again and again as I wrote both Under the Poppy and The Garden Path; it’s been a touchstone text for me, its mystery and distance, its longing.  I’m thrilled to see, now, the poetry collection Mercury Dressing, which contains that poem alongside others.  What a beautiful surprise it is, when another writer’s work speaks so intimately in the midst of your own.  Thank you, J.D.McClatchy.