What does it mean to love a woman—a mother, an other—and hold her at arm’s length? Clara Joseph’s third collection of poems, M/OTHER, skillfully navigates the nuances and irony of this daily exercise. With each turn of the page, the narrative gains emotional intensity and takes readers on unexpected journeys, such as this one: “He smiled like the man he was/as he copied wonder into my lap, .

. .

/And I bent to smell his washed scalp;/the nip was barely visible . .

. /And the snake slid away/in the shadows between/our hooves.

” While the collection playfully experiments with language and form, it never obscures the gravity of its themes, as in the parenthetical query: “(Could I be a Ruth to my Naomi?/Or would I be—simply—ruthless?)” The collection is divided into three parts, each exploring the multifaceted nature of motherhood, uncovering biographical details, certainties, uncertainties, and the intricacies of hidden pasts. It also contemplates unconventional messages, both reverent and irreverent, unveiling their magical essence.

In the final section, the book contemplates senility and will, death and miracle, and survival and freedom. .