The Devil’s School lies down this way. Lot’s wife knows your name. Hearts hang in the scales, flesh and clay are one and the same, and the severed head of Orpheus sings in winter waves. In award-winning poet Sonya Taaffe’s first collection of short fiction, the boundaries between worlds dissolve to reveal unmasked harlequins and women made of stars, serpentine plagues and New England storm gods, and many other denizens of the spaces between. These songs of innocence and experience, Blake never knew.