The poems in On the Verge , Marie Rickmyer’s wonderful new book, are both heartbreaking and inspiring. The boundary between what breaks our hearts and what heals them is the territory Rickmyer returns to again and again. This book is full of wisdom, but wisdom delivered in an understated way. The stories and images here reveal again and again what it means to be human. The subject matter has a wide range, but the throughline, it seems to me, are the poems that have to do with family: how much pain there is in these poems, but also how much love! The book reminds me why poetry is so important; how hearing another’s story, their moments of emotional truth, can make so much difference in our lives. I feel such gratitude for this book and I know that other readers will, too. —Jim Moore, author of six poetry collections, including Prognosis and Underground Marie Rickmyer’s mother suffered from a severe and undiagnosed mental illness, and these intimate poems searingly share a life begun in an unimaginable childhood. Despite this, the story evolves into an adult existence that embraces beauty, children, and kindness to strangers. Trauma and joy don’t cancel each other out. They co-exist—while there are smashed wedding dishes, broken nails, and burnt flesh, there is also music and friendship and a drive to create. I won’t give it away, but the second to the last poem of this journey –oh, those peonies! —will take your breath away. —Kirsten Dierking, author of Tether , Northern Oracle , One Red Eye Late in Marie Rickmyer’s wonderful debut collection, she describes a poem as “a surprise dance with tone / ...for the audience’s delight.” There is much delight for readers in these poems, and the surprise arises from the speaker’s capacity to find tenderness amid struggle and violence. The ordinary world is harsh, and Rickmyer doesn’t shy away from that truth; but these poems showcase her brilliance, an ability to see the world’s possibilities, not merely its difficulties. Her hard-won compassion sings throughout these poems, her openness “allow[ing] a joy that tips my heart up to sing.” Stubborn gratitude prevails, and readers will mourn and cheer with her when she asserts, “even the tenderest roots are built to survive the harshest thrashing.” —Tracy Youngblom, author of Growing Big , One Bird a Day , and Boy