“Orgera’s is a poetics of accumulation and transmutation: breasts become couplets, syllables go missing, and euphemisms gather around a grave. Agatha charts a searing path into selfhood through cyclic remaking and lyric reclaiming. ”

  —Sarah Ghazal Ali, author of Theophanies

“For a long time now, I have wanted to start a convent, and now that Agatha is here, I can. Agatha will be our book of days. Our book of revelations. Our boob shop almanac. Our fallopian-dystopian book of hours. Our compendium of divine loungechair prayer. Our atlas of bald breasts lobbed. I think these poems are what a soul assembling itself sounds like. They are ramps of energy, they are martyred and murdered efforts, they are alive and playful and full of verve and dead serious biting me with their French-tipped teeth.”

—Darcie Dennigan, author of Madame X

“These fine lyrics thrive at the intersection of mystery and modernity, creating ‘a carriage of entanglements’ and ever-deepening questions around collective notions of goodness, beauty, and the divine. Orgera's haunting, oracular voice emerges from a swirl of personal and saintly histories, delivering us to the mystical ‘green-dark’ spruces bordering life's most profound beginnings and endings. This is fierce and delicate work from one of our keenest poets.”

—Kiki Petrosino, author of White Blood: A Lyric of Virginia