“Like the finest impressionist paintings, these poems’ medium of linguistic light and shadow render the many nuances of a heartfelt and hard-won life, testament to the joys and sorrows of womanhood, motherhood, and marriage. Like the most arresting symphonies, the musical lyricism of these poems captivates the soul line by line. Like the most compelling collections, this book elucidates our understanding of struggles and hopes with utterly unique and surprising tropes.”—Richard Blanco, fifth Presidential Inaugural Poet and author of Homeland of my Body
“Like the finest impressionist paintings, these poems’ medium of linguistic light and shadow render the many nuances of a heartfelt and hard-won life, testament to the joys and sorrows of womanhood, motherhood, and marriage. Like the most arresting symphonies, the musical lyricism of these poems captivates the soul line by line. Like the most compelling collections, this book elucidates our understanding of struggles and hopes with utterly unique and surprising tropes.”
—Richard Blanco, fifth Presidential Inaugural Poet and author of Homeland of my Body
“With horse (gelding) as totem creature and knife (for the cutting of flowers and food) as totem object, tether & lung moves deftly and with sustained lyric intelligence through a bucolic world in breakdown. Lives, many lives, are at stake in these poems presented with an unresolved and mesmerizingly nuanced clarity that is human and true.”
—Dennis Hinrichsen, author of Dominion + Selected Poems
“Pulled from dirt and Bible verse, this densely packed collection pieces out a disassemblage of bodies into grit, muck, and hoof. In the entropy we find the animal of desire as we twist through power struggles and the wicked beauty and violence of lives lived so closely with nature, tethered together by the fevered pitch of love, longing, and loss.”
—H. M. Cotton, managing editor of Birmingham Poetry Review
“As a queer man, I find these poems deeply familiar—the steaming desire for what can’t be returned, the journey through separation from other (which feels like separation from self), the acceptance that, even with healing, a part of us always feels half-open, half-broken, half-withered, half-revived. Sweet as jam trapped tight under lids of glass jars, each poem in tether & lung threatens an intimate explosion.”
—Robert Carr, author of The Heavy of Human Clouds
“Priest’s art is not for the timid, the faint. In tether & lung, she masterfully threads poems, one into another, widening the wound while expanding the heart. Each poem offers its own cadence, gathering momentum while moving through story, building song, containing pulse.”
—Rebecca Evans, author of Tangled by Blood and Safe Handling
