What if red ran out

"Here is awe and elegy, recklessness and mischief. Grubisic tracks our witching hours, peers into back alleys, and brings forward what frightens us. She lingers on the lonely and the lost, but also on the beautiful, reminding us that "when we jump fences we land as we can in our dreams, bionic." The poems beckon, seduce; they ask what we love and how we might hold on to it."--Jacket.