The Night We're Not Sleeping in: Kathryn A. Morton Prize in Poetry

"Reading these poems is an uncanny experience. . . . We enter into this book alert to possibility, and leave knowing how asleep we've been."—Nick Flynn
Of all the meanings of exposed I think my favorite
is the raw nerve shivering bug-like in the lamp light
while the surgeon arranges his dainty knives.
You can get close to that. You can brush
its wriggling limb and hear the scream.
You can lie there on the table, say,
"little nerve oh nerve it'll
be all right; there
there, there there.