briefly to become the sun). Marvelously, at the end, the poem’s line of Tour de France cyclists (“as cursive and precise / a mechanism as a saxophone or unhoused / gearworks”) is made somehow akin to a poetic line: “a device / for watching how a perfect line’s composed.”

Out of Ange Mlinko’s finely-printed new chapbook _Darkroom_ (Foolscap Poetry, 2025). Intricately sounded (some sidelong end-rhymes: slab / squab, Myrmid- / pyramid, unhoused / composed) and moving by means of a sort of hopscotch continuum of metaphors (the archer god’s maillot jaune seeming