“Is the mouse you?” I asked Allie.
“Absolutely. My main survival instinct during those winters and muddy springs was to run—literally run, miles and miles, into the labyrinth of forest trails on the outskirts of campus. I would come across shelters in the woods, icy creeks, dainty trillium lilies (depending on the season), and felt a bit like Alice in Wonderland.”
Moonscape for a Child by Allie Rigby—which the poet describes as a collection meeting the question: How does one live well and with purpose while also navigating the daily reality of depression?—will be out later this year from Bored Wolves. Allie writes like Allie reads. Allie reads like Allie writes. Allie Allies (pronounce as alleys). This is a book of poetry that you get to the end of and immediately slip back into, retracing its Californian shores and seeking again the cached kernels of Maine burrows.
