In Beaut,Ann Kammerer expertly captures the emotional erosion of an American family as witnessed by one of the main participants: A child without agency. An angry and resentful husband grinds against a wife who has grown tired of his criticism of her family, even though she despises her own mother.

All the while, little cobs with big ears hear every nasty word, see every self-medicating drink, and absorb every cigarette. Using her journalist’s ear for dialogue, Kammerer creates a palpable atmosphere and positions readers as houseflies on dimly lit walls.

This collection is for fans of minor league baseball, old cars, and the confounding human condition. —Jordan Trethewey, City of Fredericton Poet Laureate, author of Unexpected MergersFrom my first exposure to Ann’s work, I immediately sensed she is the perfect conduit for bittersweet stories of family strife, conflict, and acceptance.

The non-judgmental, non-intrusive approach of Kammerer’s narration allows the reader to experience the harsh truth of the characters’ lives and their interactions in their pure state; to realize, ultimately, that these people need each other. Every poem in Beaut contains the dramatic scope of a short novel, in addition to being physically striking: One can see, feel, hear—experience—everything.

Simultaneously amusing and horrifying, each piece sets the stage for the next, leaving the reader hungry for what follows. —Matt Dennison, author of Waiting for Better(Main Street Rag Press) and Kind Surgery(Urtica Press)In Beaut, Ann Kammerer presents a series of austere and witty poems, celebrating flawed families and their interactions—sometimes shouted, more often conveyed with curled lip or wisp of cigarette smoke.

The characters include a mother, father, sister, grandparents, uncle and aunt, and a few friends. Details are sparse: A Buick, Viceroy cigarette, the color of a woman’s capri pants.

There is no hint of sentimentality—and that is our deep pleasure. The author lifts the edges of a family’s tented lives and allows us to supply our own details.

You have not read poems like these before. It will take another collection from the author before you meet their like again.

—Trish Saunders, American poet, micro fiction writer. .