Camel, ass, lion, pig, donkey, horse, ox, fawn, duckling, osprey, sea snail, snake; infirmary, school, factory farm; bar, travel, underwear, childbirth, solar observatory, sex acts, and “the morning corpse of water”: maybe you can tell from this list of images in this book what Jared Shickling’s concerns are. “Nature’s impatience / homage de / con struck / shun / remains” enacts the breakdown of a world that we are destroying, so at times her syntax and spelling are altered, even to the point of using single letters. “Until I touch you and am unclean myself’’ suggests the ways we separate ourselves, male from female, human animal from other animals. “He has a blemish // he will profane not my sanctuaries.” Religion and archaisms continue to influence us in unpardonable ways. Critiques of factory farms run through the book, the most upsetting of which is a poem in which a worker confesses the horrors of tortures inflicted upon pigs. This is poetry infused with morality; its structure and its subjects are inseparable, because Shickling clearly feels the waste and misuse of the world so deeply. “Emotions mixed like primary colors.” We need such books.