My colleague, Medrie Purdham, suggested Kayla Czaga’s work to me some time ago, and last night I finally got around to reading Midway. I want to call it a delightful book, although I’m afraid that the subject matter–most of the poems focus on the death of Czaga’s father and her grief–doesn’t lend itself to the word “delightful.” The poems are wonderful, though–full of surprises and comedy. The book’s first poem, “The Hairbrush,” neatly sets the tone: her late father’s hairbrush, “Matted with hair,” is described in a series of inventive metaphors before its concluding stanza: “Here, she said, handing it to me, / Go grow yourself a new dad.” The notion of a hairbrush as a packet of seeds, of individual hairs as potential replacements for the lost parent, made me chuckle-grunt in surprise. I made the same sound as I read the rest of this book. I have another of Czaga’s books at home, and I’m looking forward to reading it, too. In the meantime, though, thanks, Medrie, for introducing me to a writer I hadn’t known about before.