The poems in Cohabitation whisper to you like an old song playing on the kitchen radio. They make you stop what you're doing and remember what love feels like -- every exciting and aching bit of it. Amanda Oaks pulls our hearts on a journey where love begins "like a million linked stars/pulsating, close to death" and reminds us that love is something we grow into and wear like "skin over a knuckle/the way a house can hold a family/through a flood/of almanacs/doing all we can/just so we/can do more." Her poems float effortlessly on the page, but sink in the pit of your stomach. This book is amazing. I've been carrying around a hard copy in my bag all week and randomly opening to different pages and reading a poem here and there when I've had the chance. This morning, I read the book from start to finish while riding in to work on the bus. It's gray and rainy out but the lighting is such that it makes anything with color pop out more; this is what her poems do. As I was reading I'd get so excited about each poem (the word choice & images) and I just wanted to stand up and tell people -- "I don't care if you think you don't like poetry. You need to read this!" I'm already construing an email in my head to my co-workers about how they need to buy this book for their significant others for Valentine's Day. Seriously, this is so good. Makes me want to pluck words out of the sky and write down every single thing.

Oaks marries memorable images with haunting silences, in her new collection, showing how love gives birth to poetry. She gracefully amalgamates the emotional, physical, and intellectual intimacy of relationships in a way that is fresh and honest. Mellifluous language accompanying stunning artwork reminds the reader that the seasons of love need not follow convention.

Amanda's poems in Cohabitation breathe with a sense of cosmic anxiety. It seems the pieces are her then, now and forever all at once. The glue that binds this book together, for me at least, is the substance of life observed, distilled, and drank upon perceiving, and like quantum mechanics, Amanda's words must read different for everyone. An uneasy uniqueness to them, like they might not exist at all if we weren't in the quiet place with them. She has a wonderfully sensual way of embodying the poem like an aura. Her voice is like nature in Cohabitation.

Amanda's poetry reminds me of the importance of relationships and inspires me to be more aware of the beauty that permeates my own. Words placed carefully, written thoughtfully, and full of fire. What she does in Cohabitation is capture desire. A feat much like roping the wind. A unique talent.