The effects of reading Alexis Orgera’s Illuminatrix and stargazing are similar. Her language flickers and beckons in the darkness, and you are aware of, and maybe even seized by, a cosmic energy. A kind of garish emptiness shines through the pinholes of these poems—desire and days, and yes, light too is dying. It’s the very same ache you got that night you realized the light took so long to reach you that the stars are already dead. You’re not sure whether the word stuck in your head is light or blight—and you must hurl your body back outside tonight and look again. This is the right book to reread in the dark.
—Darcie Dennigan, author of Corinna A-Maying the Apocalypse