Abode is a debut collection of interconnected poems that delve with vertiginous momentum into homes—both material and interior—lost and rediscovered from the inside looking they are excavations of nested domestic spheres furnished with the bricolage of ruin and decay. Lee takes readers through hallucinatory geographies, plant-haunted spaces, and dreamlike corridors flooded with water and light, accompanied by an ever-changing subject that cannot make itself feel at home in its body, its country, or its language.
I immediately felt at home in this book. The language oozes haunting familiarity, and the autumnal comfort of decay. I’ve read it through once, but am pulled back to read it over again, more slowly. Like walking through an ancient forest and abandoned homes, each poem comes with its own mingling scents that tug at old memories and internal ghosts of the places and people we thought we’d left behind.