Here's a poem from Lisa's manuscript and, because we know how Lisa feels about landscape, especially her Nebraska home, here's a photo of Poland looking very much like, well, Nebraska (as we imagine it).
Today I Found Your Mother's Recipe Tucked Inside a Book of Poems
Now, I should describe the sky
or birds, endless variety.
But this ache like the time on wielded metal
I nearly cut off my pinky toe,
hanging limp: red and pink and glimpse
of white. The blood coloring the ground,
the ground inside my body. Healing
is only a murmur. Hundreds of dead
starlings, frozen in trees or scattered
on the ground: iridescent rotting apples.
Not a mystery (poisoned by a feed lot owner);
there is an explanation for nearly everything.
Congratulations, Lisa, and happy travels and send us some poems.