Angela Alaimo O’Donnell’s poetry collection Love in the Time of Coronavirus (Paraclete Press, 2021) captures the essence of the Catholic faith as the reader takes her journey through a year of the pandemic alongside her, recognizing themes of grief, psychological fatigue, and self-discovery as she tries to find love among human beings in lockdown.   In “In Which I Learn to Love My Neighbor,” she shows us that when we are trapped between four white walls with nothing to hold onto, we hold each other’s hands. Perhaps, we find comfort in people we previously never noticed.  She repeats the words “I love” to list the number of people who have gone out of their way to act kindly and keep society running. The emphasis upon love leaves a strong impression on the reader as it reminds us to have a sense of appreciation, 

as they risk their lives daily for my sake, 
So that I might eat, that I might have more, 
wine than I need, clothes I can’t wear.
Such kindnesses stand between us and despair.

The kindness of others speaks volumes, as it is something oftentimes our society neglects. Although the pandemic has robbed us of much, in human connection we find sanctity. As O’Donnell acknowledges in her final poem of the collection, “Pandemic Prayer”: “The virus can’t destroy / this urge to bless our life & praise / even these pandemic days.” In hardship our hearts grow strong, and O’Donnell’s final words leave us with hope as we come out on the other end of this year of struggle. 
—Samantha Ashton

“Confession” is the first poem seen in Leila Chatti’s Deluge (Copper Canyon Press, 2020).  In this poem, Chatti establishes an association between herself and Mary, the Mother of God. The poem starts: “Truth be told, I like Mary a little better / when I imagine her like this, crouched / and cursing, a boy-God pushing on / her cervix (I like remembering / she had a cervix, her body ordinary / and so like mine) . . .”  When struggling with her own personal illness of the cervix, Chatti appears to find strength by comparing Mary’s body to her own. This comparison really humanizes Mary, the Mother of God, in the sense that Mary is the same as all women on a physical level.  Just as Mary was able to bear the birth of Jesus, so too are all women capable of bearing pain. When poetry humanizes a holy figure, it allows us to think more positively about our own ability to bear pain of any kind.
—Christiana Santos

Martín Espada’s Floaters (W. W. Norton, 2021) depicts the tale of the average day of an immigrant. Immigrants are an excessively marginalized group who go through so much hate and oppression. Espada informs his readers in a poetic way how political leaders, fear, ignorance, and one’s upbringing contribute to the discrimination of these groups. The poems in this book are raw and graphically show the extremes immigrants go through seeking a better life. Espada gives his readers a seat and lets them go through the stories of these immigrants that not only touch our hearts but make us think of the role we play in these stories.
—Jada Mentor 

In Central Air (Triquarterly Books—Northwestern University Press, 2020), Mike Puican uses irony to make us think about the effects our own spiritual weaknesses can have on others.  From the title of the poem “Joke,” I thought that this poem was going to be lighthearted and easy to understand; however, I did not feel that this poem was a joke.  It did not trigger any laughter.  The “joke” starts with “a dog walks into the bar and orders a beer.”  But immediately after that, the speaker tells us, “As a child there were things I never mentioned.”  I think the poem is about a child who sees everything that goes on with his parents inside the home, and these parents end up fighting a custody battle over the child:  “Then custody battles over who gets the dog.”  I thought this was a classic poem with an interesting twist to show us that when people argue or disagree it affects so much more than just the two people, and in the case of parents, it affects a child most of all, who suffers the difficulties of being caught in the middle of two people whom they love. At the end of the poem, the line “Invented life: we can say anything!” leads me to think that we never know the full picture of a person's life when they can tell stories or jokes to cover them up. This poem prompts us to reflect upon not only the seen or witnessed situations but to recognize that there is an unknown story behind every situation.
—Ryan Naturale

             When considering the relationship between Sally Thomas’s Motherland (Able Muse Press, 2020) and faith, I have found that the book truly brings light to the mystery and questions that surround the concept of motherhood.  A mother herself, Thomas offers us key moments during motherhood: moments before giving birth, moments after the child is born, moments with her partner in life.  This book allows us as readers to understand what a mother of faith like Thomas would not only be struggling with but also cherishing in her mind at certain moments in a mother’s life.
            The poem “Angelus” centers around the thoughts of having children before any are even conceived, hence the name “Angelus”, which commemorates the angel Gabriel’s message to Mary about her role in the Incarnation: “Unconceived, your children wait for you. / Neat rows of them hang quiet in the mind’s / Upstairs closet. Like dresses never worn[.]” Thomas also uses an extended metaphor throughout the poem, comparing thoughts of conceiving a child to thoughts of choosing, or with a unique twist being chosen by, a dress hanging in an “upstairs closet” that has been “long locked.” The metaphor gives a good illustration of how mothers long to bear a child, not knowing when or whether each will come, and how enough time without doing that could lead to extreme shifts in emotions. It also can help the reader understand how important having a baby is for people like Thomas.
Now I am no woman. And it is not possible for me to ever bear a child. But when a book like this gets a 19-year-old guy to think about fatherhood, then I think Thomas definitely accomplishes her mission.
—Brian Prelich 

“The Cliff Over Waikiki” is my favorite poem from Lisa Ampleman’s Romances (Louisiana State University Press, 2020). The poem reflects the wedding day of Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love. Ampleman writes from Love’s point of view, reminiscing on their special day and how to the world it might have seemed crazy that Cobain wore “blue checked” pajamas to their wedding or that they “both held pink flowers, shedding / those gender roles we hated.”  We start to romanticize the love birds' crazy idea of love, and some readers might even wish they had their own special connection with someone in that way. It is almost like that Harley Quinn and Joker mad love story.  However, the poem takes a dark turn when she writes, “we wouldn’t celebrate our third anniversary— /  I’d read your suicide note with its fucked-up grace, / to our gathered guests: lonely liturgy.” We come to the realization that love can be painful, cold and cruel. “Liturgy” is the customary public worship performed by a religious group, especially by a Christian group. It was interesting to me that Ampleman chose this word. I believe she was trying to make the connection of how millions of people worshipped their respective music, especially the band Nirvana. They were one of the “it” couples of the 90s, and people would worship them, come out to see them, and follow them and their lives through the media outlets at the time.
           Each poem in Ampleman’s collection is so unique and empowering, while painfully real at the same time. Each time I reread them, I feel more inspired and fascinated by Ampleman’s use of words and their hidden meanings. She does an outstanding job in making this book personal to each and every reader. No matter the age of these readers it is clear to all that there is a poem that can be connected to each of them, and that is what makes Romances stand out from other books of poems about love, its versatility and wide creative range.
—Gabrielle Oliveira