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The brilliant new collection by Monica Youn following Ignatz, a finalist for the National Book Awardthe trees all planted in the same month after the same fire each thick around as a man's wristmeticulously spaced grids cutting the sunshine into panels into planks and crossbeams of lightan incandescent architecture that is the home that was promised you--from "Whiteacre" "Blackacre" is a centuries-old legal fiction -- a placeholder name for a hypothetical estate. Treacherously lush or alluringly bleak, these poems reframe their subjects as landscape, as legacy -- a bereavement, an intimacy, a racial identity, a pubescence, a culpability, a diagnosis. With a surveyor's keenest tools, Youn marks the boundaries of the given, what we have been allotted: acreage that has been ruthlessly fenced, previously tenanted, ploughed and harvested, enriched and depleted.

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