When I was a teenager, my beautiful teenage cousin died -- perhaps from her diagnosed anorexia, perhaps from a drug overdose (intentional or unintentional). I'll never fully understand her tormented psyche, but the exquisitely excruciating poems in Cynthia Cruz's The Glimmering Room enable me to bear witness to various young lives which are similarly tormented: the self-starving girl, the girl whose candy habit becomes a drug habit, the girl who doesn't want to be merely the twinkle in her father's eye, the girl who wants to be healed by St. Francis. Each of these denuded, stark poems is a trauma unit for encountering "the small massacres of childhood" (page 27). If Soul is another way to say Sanity (per Robert Frost), then the poetry in this book serves no less vital a purpose than to save the souls of kids and teens. Here are pages after pages of Word "warding off" Wards -- metaphorical wards such as America's toxic shopping malls, trailer parks, truck stops, bus stations, jail cells, train yards, fitness gyms, Army barracks, phone booths, doll houses. As an adult living in 2012, I can't do anything now to bring back that beautiful girl who died in college. This book reminds me that countless other girls still need help. To see them, all I have to do is look up from the page