Ecopoetic at its core, Kristi Maxwell’s My My is concerned about the world, that abundant stray, and scrutinizes the messiness of human relationships to each other and to the nonhuman–how acts of seeing can lift up or erase. Maxwell’s seventh book operates under the sign of or, testing out alternatives and revisions in the hopes of landing on a truth that can be lived with. Part-sigh, part-sly, these poems make friends with their own shiftiness and recognize that the imperfect might be the best place to look for our next c(l)ues.