Deliciously long lines hang suspended between the holy and the home...This American Israeli poet, teaching, and raising a daughter in the Middle East, acknowledges both the "e;wreckage of the Byzantine villages"e; as well as the peril of living in a place where "e;the antennae at the military base quiver"e; and where "e;no one knows what time our daily missile will appear."e; At the same time, this poet embraces Tel Aviv's quotidian humor writing an ode to the city's garbage collectors whose "e;clarity"e; she craves and praising "e;the season for shedding shoes...every last one of them black."e; The brilliant cadence of Sulak's poems, "e;keeping pace with the current"e; of the Yarkon River along which the poet runs, not only enact, but also celebrate what it means to be alive "e;in a place where the flowers are old enough to have stories."e; These poems should be read, perhaps even sung-Sarah Wetzel