In Self-Portrait as Hildegard of Bingen, Kate Fadick has visions. Fadick revels in the beauties and wonders of our world, taking them deeply into her body — and foresees its, and our, extinction. These poems are timeless and universal but are particularly ripe for the current political environment in the United States under a new President Trump. In "In my dream of Hildegard," Fadick writes, "we turn to face the worst/ our kind can do// our bodies spinning/ death of stars// woven with all that lives". Fadick observes with a kind of view-from-beyond that "here on the steep rock/ face of the coming extinction// one weedy species/ wails a broken note or two" in "Antigone's Birds." These poems are prophetic, at once doom-seeing and hopeful: the painful truths and their poultices. These poems will see us through; they will be here "while the sun/ turns red and// stars break through// … and the first berries/ ripen in the coming/ darkness". As Fadick tells us, "These are the poems made of glass// blown at the edge/ of the bent world".
— Elizabeth Twiddy, author of Love-Noise