To successfully give space and voice to another in a poem is such a tremendous feat—a feat that is achieved by the poet behind “Inheritance.” Traversing time, and family, and memory, this poem teaches its readers everything we need to know about the inherent and terrifying beauty of death, and all left in death’s wake. When I read this poem, I felt so directly spoken to, so held by both the speaker and the speaker’s mother. Yes, perhaps all we have are, “non-memories”—opportunities for revision and metaphor, infusions of softness and gentleness. Perhaps all we have are, “languages we can’t sift through.” But we are here, with this poem, trying to sift through our painfully human hearts, nonetheless. “Inheritance” will stay with me. I will carry it. I believe you will, too.

Kayleb Rae Candrilli, judge of the 2021 James T. Whitehead Award for Poetry

“Stolen” | Chestnut Review | FORTHCOMING

“On Alternate Endings” | Mid/South Sonnets: A Belle Point Press Anthology | FORTHCOMING

“When I Grow Up, I Want to Be the Culmination of Things I Took for Granted” | Grist | FORTHCOMING

“Positive Root Pressure” | Originally on Hobart; Now on Hobart After Dark | 2022

“Horology” | Hooligan Magazine | 2022

“Co-Parenting with My Best Friend” | Hooligan Magazine | 2022

“My Dream About the Family Dinner” | Hooligan Magazine | 2022

“Inheritance” | Zone 3 | PRINT | 2021

“Dream in Which Kendrick Lamar Hates Your Potatoes | Hobart After Dark | 2021

“Submerged” | Twin Pies Literary | 2021

“After Your Life, I’ll Meet You in a Crowded Bar” | New South Journal | PRINT | 2020

“Entomology” and “To The Iberian Lynx” | Product 31 | 2017 | Winner of Product’s 2017 poetry prize