15. Suzanne Frischkorn, Spring Tide (Aldrich Contemporary Art Museum, 2005)

"Forgive me. I can't name the scarlet birds / that dart through the bramble," Suzanne Frishkorn writes in the first lines of the first poem of her chapbook Spring Tide. But there's much she can and does name in these beautiful poems. In my favorite, "The Tulip Thief, Mi Amor," the speaker considers how best to nab whoever's been grabbing her "pretty girls":

...I've contemplated a linger
in the eaves with a shotgun. A friend suggests
a garden hose. And like a misunderstood lover,
I harbored plans--one with a black alder
and epoxy--discarded for mercy.

As the poem ends, she imagines the thief is taking the flowers to win back the affections of his drifting wife:

...You saw my tulips and thought
to dazzle her back with scarlet; it's the true nature
of violet, pure. I like to think my tulips save
your marriage--you're off to Niagara Falls
for a wet second honeymoon and surprise
baby. This, I understand. Sometimes we need
lucid and reckless acts to see each other again.

Wonderful stuff.