You may scan the first few lines of “Gal,” the first poem in this book, but then you will not, under any circumstances, be able to resist reading every other single word of every other single poem aloud, relishing the rollick, the swiveling syntax, the familiar rendered oh-so-gloriously unfamiliar, the snap-crackle, the profound and the puckish. Adele Williams’ poems rivet—and refuse to release you.