Ordinarily, I hesitate to share poetry so steeped in death, but “Death is the worst/ sort of lurker. The best soldier of fortune./ It hardly refuses anyone’s offer.” I can’t refuse a single poem Shapero offers; her words roll forward effortlessly, turn on unexpected images and rhyme, examining God with no pretension or artifice. I will read this collection again and again until I’m as dead as anything Shapero discusses. Perfect. - a.c.