Come and See

Here a gun might go off,

There perhaps a broom would brush away the sticks of spring.

It was not your fault where you were dropped

Or where you took your first steps.

—from "After Watching Klimov's Agoniya"

In Fanny Howe's latest collection of poems, she beckons us toward the origins of both our collective knowing and our misperception. These poems move from one country to another and from one archetypal position—parent, grandparen...