We Mammals in Hospitable Times

This historically-, scientifically-, and zoologically-minded debut by the National Science Foundation's 2013 Antarctic Artist in Residence abounds with formally-restrained, wickedly-wry poems that feature witty titles ("Out of Whose Womb Came the Ice," "Reasons to Consider Setting Ourselves on Fire") and manically-, widely-shifting points of focus. Martin's work runs on definitive statements and their accrual: "the bride in scarlet boots and a beaded collar is soon forgotten/ kneeling pregnant in sealskin trousers as she heats the hoosh," she intones, before noting how "the Eskimo language is often consulted by crossword makers,// kayak, mukluk, igloo, ukluk penciled in by the lawyer on the train." She moves from scene to scene, from the arctic to domestic, from observations about global warming to the remark that "We've rocketed beyond the age of miracles." Frequently dark ("I would like to suck in your last exhale as you expire") and funny ("The dancer's dying words: get my swan costume ready."), Martin's poems consistently and assuredly forge ahead with each line, maintaining a hyper-state of pace and prosody, and tying life's smaller moments to a grander narrative: "When I try to imagine my life to come/ I see a lump of sea glass buried,// ground to a blinding clarity under/ centuries of sand." (Feb.)