i've been sitting with Time is a Mother for a good day now and just like On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous, my mind is numb after finishing it. yes, it is so good and honestly it's unfair. there's so much here that one reading cannot possibly excavate everything that Ocean has so carefully poured into this thin collection. i'm thinking specifically on accessibility and complexity in these poems. this is, extensively, a body of work about grief; so should these poems be simple to process and understand? if the answer is no, that must mean the emotions are still rough and genuine.

this gathering of poems is unbounded. they provide no remedies or answers around grief, and yet are so introspectively connected to discussions of remembrance and cultures of violence and, in the end, joy. these poems' rough edges and unbridled ambition turn this book into a time capsule. it is a historical document and a living testament to Rose. what Time is a Mother has taught me (and I hope will continue to impart as I return it) is that memory is haunted and beautiful and that maybe we don't need immortality but instead a better, more loving way to remember our lives.