Elaine Feeney's poems report back to us from the front line of her own experiences, and they successfully bear the emotional weight and power of those experiences, whether they be poems of a messy divorce, of the thankless frustrations of special-needs teaching, or of her heroic and Amazonian one-woman assault on a lap-dancing club. The traumas and ruptures have not been tamed or sublimated or bound over. The hurt continues to hurt. The anger does not lie down. The wounds are open.