“And while we waited / the myth of him grew, / till the anticipation / of his return / would fill each room.” As a lover of the sonnet sequence, I’ve been longing to read Anthony Joseph’s Sonnets for Albert for a while; his modern take on the sonnet sequence takes the intensity of the form, devoting it to grief and familial love. In the first few poems, Joseph captures the death of his father and immediate grief, before then pivoting back to his father’s past in ‘Billfolds’; as the sequence progresses, Joseph moves with slow intensity through his childhood and his relationship with his father Albert, a man with his own mythical sense of self, a man perceived differently by his several children, lovers, family. Many of the poems are concerned with what is left unsaid in death, quietly profound: “Ash falls from a cornered cigarette. Nothing is said.”; “the half-parted mouth which kept its secrets, / and offered no response, no tender farewell.”, in the appropriately titled ‘Answers Are Important’; “Then he laughed, but nothing else was said.”, in ‘Poetry’. In both ‘Sam Boucaud, Santa Cruz’ and ‘Fulton Calypso’, Joseph is especially playful with the sonnet form, and ‘A Gap in Language’ is playful with language and meaning. I was so struck by the palpable grief in ‘Tumulus I’ and ‘Tumulus II’, and all its other various, vivid forms: “Each scene is his, he steals it”; “mostly / I avoided calling him anything at all”; “You looked like my father, but something had been lost besides life.” As the sequence builds to its final gorgeous poem, almost mystical in its energy, Joseph proves himself a master not just of the sonnet, but of the sequence as a medium.