Ricochet Editions

97 Pages, $15

Reviewed by Jen Lambert

Reading Molly Sutton Kiefer’s Nestuary is like getting a glimpse into the inner workings of the maternal hive: that sacred colony of sleeping and feeding, the sweet wing beats of purpose and ritual, and those tiny humming bodies. The days are swift and ephemeral, but Sutton Kiefer reminds of the intensity, the warm, buzzing socket where drowsy becomes the new wake state,

This tunnel is my home. Eye-locked, wintered-in.

We build a fire to keep the melt. My body warms to theirs;
I am no longer the tinder but the fire itself.

We nestled in, we shipped, we rode that blue sea…We were mapping
the body and its new workings. Continue reading →