In poems of compassion and social justice, Mihaela Moscaliuc probes borders and memory to work through, and further complicate, understandings of belonging—from places (including her native Romania) and histories, to ways of knowing, loving, and grieving. If the wounded populate these poems, so too do goats, black swans, centipedes, dismembered dolls, and wandering wombs. The ekphrastic sequence on Rousseau's <i>The Sleeping Gypsy</i> honors stories of Roma people while addressing issues of (mis)representation and epistemic violence. As in previous collections, cemeteries become sites of power, holding the living accountable. <br><br><b>The homeless women of Iaşi</b><br><br>So many shouting at no one, disputing <br> accusations, nodding maniacally, <br> flogging trees with headscarves— <br>their pantomimes re-populate<br> sidewalks with ousted ghosts. <br> They pose no threat <br>but we detour cautiously, <br> afraid their siren voices might awaken<br> the penal colony in our ribcage.