Over 17 years and nine collections, John Burnside has built—in the words of Bernard O’Donoghue—"a poetic corpus of the first significance," a poetry of luminous, limpid grace. His territory is the no-man’s-land of threshold and margin, the charmed half-light of the liminal, a domestic world threaded through with mystery, myth, and longing. In this volume these themes emerge and develop within the growing confidence of Burnside’s sinuous lyric poise: the place of the individual in the world, the idea of dwelling and home, and the lure of absence and escape are set against the possibilities of renewal and continuity. This is consummate, immaculate work born out of a lean and agile craftsmanship, profound philosophical thought, and a haunted, haunting imagination. The result is a poetry that makes intimate, resonant, exquisite music.