In My Arms

<p>Trespass across the human landscape of Setareh Ebrahimi’s world.</p><p>You’ll find yourself a willing voyeur of stolen moments between the intrepid and humanely flawed figures who populate her poems: mothers lovers lost siblings corrupted angels nurses and ghosts. Leave your faint heart at home: these poems are set in extremes either frozen or desert-hot. They dance and skip to a musicality that seems to come from the land from the skin.</p><p>Ebrahimi’s is an assured voice both soft and hard ruthless and seductive. Line by line she layers imagery as if pouring a glass of water to the brim: full enough to satisfy great thirst without spilling over.</p><p> </p>