"In Heirloom, Megan Krupa strums the hidden tendons that connect a body to its geography. Here, the smokestacks of Appalachia are inseparable from the corpses in the ground. Here, the trees are as silent as the people left to tend them. Simultaneously lush and limber, Megan's poems concoct one of the most merciful, striking depictions of rural loss in poetry today."
-Jerrod Schwarz, author of No Name Atkins
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