The Shapes That Shelter Takes by Judith Kleck

Cows with “mottled / and matronly bodies”; sleep that “creeps on like evening / colors, dull and weary / from heat”; frogs with “their dank / repository of song”: This is not just a world and a life keenly observed but a world and a life transformed into art by accurate and uncanny description. Highlight as you read or keep a tablet list of phrases that astonish when you encounter them. They express first Judith Kleck’s impressive poetic accuracy, then her poetic uncanniness, a magic that feels truer than true. “Dance the space between the steps” we read; “it is not stillness.” In these poems, “the white space sings,” and the effort toward speech, in the midst of silencing illness, enacts a particular and very beautiful eloquence. The Shapes That Shelter Takes is a life’s work; it is the work of a life. Readers will find a remarkable solace in this book, in the shelter that the best poetry offers.

–Robert Wrigley, author of The True Account of Myself As a Bird

Throughout The Shapes That Shelter Takes, Judith Kleck calls us to “Listen,” to “Step out.” In her strong poetic voice she does just that, “listening” to the silence of the pond when the frog chorus stops, to the strength in the body of her horse, to the gaze on a mother’s face. And then in the wisdom of suffering, she “steps out” against a different kind of silence to embrace the “bumble tongue” of ALS with quiet euphony as she reminds us that “each change requires its loss,” yet “it must be enough, even in sadness, to thrill to the blackbird’s song.” We marvel at the depth of Judith’s understanding, at her gift of craft, her humor, imagery and metaphor, and finally at the care and artistry with which Joseph Powell orders these poems and titles each section to complete Judith’s final book of poetry.

–Karen Gookin, author of The Hills Around Are Dust and Light