Poetry. Women's Studies. LGBT Studies. Here is poetry of witness and vision, haunted by personal ghosts and those of history. Part lyrical travelogue, part oracular choiring, FLUCHT unfolds in perfect imperfect rhythm: swans in Poland bear memories of snow into a black canal, white owls wait in the birch trees of Siberia, a mother brings her newly-adopted Russian daughter into an American Miracle Mart. There's a sober mistrust of redemption here, yet an abiding solace in the silence which surrounds all, and Matthees mines this, stunningly, transforming everything in her view. 'The moon has / shed her clothes after all because / it was just an agreement, language.' --Joni Wallace