The Bronze Arms

Erotically charged and combining classical allusions with frank depictions of kink, the stately third collection from Hofmann (A Hundred Lovers) displays the hushed tones and precision for which he is celebrated. Standouts include “Minotaur” and “Drowning on Crete,” in which he reimagines Greek myth through the lens of queer longing. “Breed Me” confronts the intersections of pleasure, pain, and power with candor: “The way you hurt me (fingers, teeth):/ I grew accustomed to it/ Then I craved it/ Then I got bored/ And other men tried to put death into my mouth.” In “Armour/Amour,” the speaker demands, “Put your camera in my mouth,” collapsing the gaze and the body neatly into one. Hofmann’s voice is confessional while rarely giving much away. He is at his best when capturing true intimacy, as in “Young People”: “The hours we didn’t do anything/ But sit on the floor in silence:/ Nothing more erotic than being in the same room/ Not interacting—/ Reading different articles,/ Our minds elsewhere.” Despite their sexual exhibitionism, the poems are pristine, evoking the white marble of ancient Greek statuary. Some readers might wish for a little more mess, but there are plenty of knockouts to be found in this elegant assemblage. (Feb.)