Paper Crown

by Heather Christle

'[Heather Christle is] among the small handful of authors whose books I reflexively, half-consciously reach toward whenever I need inspiration, consolation, delight. Nobody thinks like her' Kaveh Akbar, Electric Literature

'This is a stunning book' Jericho Brown

'A striking celebration of risk and beauty' Kit Fan, Guardian

Paper Crown is Heather Christle's first new collection of poems in over a decade.

Throughout these exuberant poems, Christle conjures moments when the world's events - a child's words, early twentieth-century predictions of drone warfare, dinners with friends - alight themselves with the odd logic of dreams and serendipity.

With tenderness and verse, honesty and curiosity, Paper Crown invites readers to look up from its pages and recognise that the day going on around them could very well be its own poem.

Mistake

For years I have seen
dead animals on the highway

and grieved for them
only to realize they are

not dead animals
they are t shirts

or bits of blown tire
and I have found

myself with this
excess of grief

I have made with
no object to let

it spill over and
I have not known

where to put it or
keep it and then today

I thought I know
I can give it to you

Genres: Poetry

80 pages, Kindle Edition

Published September 4, 2025

About the author

Heather Christle is the author of The Crying Book (Catapult), a NYT Editor’s Choice, Indie Next Selection, and national bestseller that was translated into eight languages, awarded the Georgia Book Award for memoir, and adapted for radio by the BBC. An Associate Professor of English and Creative Writing at Emory University in Atlanta, Christle is also the author of four poetry collections including The Trees The Trees (Octopus Books), which won the Believer Book Award and was adapted into a ballet by the Pacific Northwest Ballet. In 2021 she was the recipient of a George A. and Eliza Gardner Howard Foundation Fellowship in nonfiction. Born in Wolfeboro, New Hampshire to a Merchant Mariner from North Dakota and an artist from London, Christle spent her teen years and early twenties immersed in the Boston punk scene. She attended Tufts University, graduating in 2004. After receiving her MFA from UMass Amherst in 2009, she was a Creative Writing Fellow at Emory University from 2009-11, and has also taught at UT Austin and Sarah Lawrence College. She lives in Decatur, Georgia, with her partner (poet and writer Christopher DeWeese), their child, and two cats.

Reviews

[Grace Anne · Rating 5 out of 5]

linguistic play and innovation and surprise and Christle at her best. only sad because I want more

[iris · Rating 4 out of 5]

heather christle is genius at endings. other things too but wow every poem sticks its landing

[Ethan Altshul]

A wonderfully inventive book

[Liz ardeez · Rating 5 out of 5]

I LOVE these poems. And when I heard her read some a few weeks ago something unlocked within me. I understand poetry now. And that I will never understand it.

[Adelaide Rosene]

💜👑

[H]

"The deer are awake./ Is one pregnant?/ If they kept diaries/ the first entry would/ read: Was born/ Was licked/ Tried walking" (1)

"If the glowing door/ were to appear I'd/ tell you all about it./ I would miss my life" (5)

"Rooms invaded the world/ centuries before me./ A few inches over/ a small doom took form" (24)

"I have several imaginary problems/ to which I turn in times of great need./ The penny where my heart should be...It can get lonely out here/ in the cloud/How much/ would it take to get you to look up/ and say--I don't know-- my name?" (29)

"how the pain is immense and replaced/ with a stubborn understanding/ that one cannot go backwards,/ though one ought to go backwards,/ and that is how a brain/ begins to terrorize itself" (47)

"I breathed in for 12 seconds and out for 8/ and meanwhile I reached an infinitely/ small moment I was exactly twice/ as old as you or vice versa but now/ we are drifting farther apart then ever before/ and that is sad but not without value/ like an amateur crime reenactment/ in which all but the victim is wrong" (48)

"Is a name meant to fit over or inside or/ next to? I find when I do wear my name/ it boings from my head on some kind/ of antenna and our movements/ are related but do not match./ The sun has burned into my back/the shape of a window and now/ I can see through it to the sky" (56)

"Is it sad that a robin/--in order to be born--/ must break that pretty/ egg? Don't answer that!/ An unanswered question/ remains whole" (63)

"Thought *I am still a bell waiting to be a rung*/ Thought *I would be happy to be rung*" (66)

[Cheryl · Rating 2 out of 5]

Perfect Song

I remember walking through the morning
after a night of heavy snow and drink
with headphones on and they played
me the most perfect song: no one
was awake and I was hungover
young as clean as a piano
I thought and at any moment
someone might fall in love with me
I was that woven into the electric
cold bright air and for weeks
after I went through the album
in search of the song but could not
find it and later much later I saw
that what I had taken to be the song
was in fact the joyous concordance
of a moment that would not come again.

accessible poetry about everyday things.

Excerpts:

In the morning I drink coffee
until I can see a way to love
life again. It’s okay, there’s no
difference between flying and
thinking you’re flying until you land.

I raise my head and am astonished by the window’s absolute and complicated green, the opposite of the wrong suitcase’s impassive empty space. These are my hands with nothing in them.

The birds are multiplying. No one in front now, no one needed. They’ve stitched themselves into a wave

Every leaf has been pulled into sight. If I look up I will have to take them in. There is no order. They each have a name.

Someone says No one cares a whit for me and someone else says I care a whit for you and someone else still says ‘Whit’ is a variation on ‘wight’ meaning ‘thing’ or ‘person’ and the second person’s reassurance collapses into itself — I care a person for a person — the way the solar system eventually will, some bright and then dark day.

[Benjamin Niespodziany · Rating 5 out of 5]

Heather Christle's first poetry collection in a decade and it *might* be my favorite one yet. "The Tooth" is an all-timer for me, a poem I return to often, and I was thrilled to finally see it in print. I was also fortunate enough to hear Christle read from this book earlier this summer in Chicago, where she encouraged people at the venue to come closer to the stage, sit on the floor, and if they showed her proof of having ordered her book, she'd tell them her favorite joke. 10/10, no notes.

[Christopher Deweese · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is amazing.

[Sarah Bean · Rating 3 out of 5]

I fear poems this abstract tend to be hit or miss for me. “My Love You Died in my Dream Last Night,” “Some Ideas on the Novel” and “Mistake” are some of my favorite poems I’ve ever read though.

[Emily Brown · Rating 4 out of 5]

love heather christle, includes my fave poem of hers ("the tooth").

not really a totally cohesive collection but i'm jazzed it exists.

[Chanel Chapters]

Roadkill, but make it mistaken misplaced grief.