One after another...Shelly Wagner's poems reach out and unstrap us; we're forced head-on into the pathos, the overwhelming beauty, the sense of unbearable loss. And as we read on, the only cushioning restraints are the beauty of language, the aesthetic and emotional impact of poetry (which intensify feelings even more, of course). What saves us, then, as reader? How can we bear it? Why should we try to cope with such loss, until we might have to? If Aristotle was right, a drama like this arouses our pity and fear: compassion, as we empathize; and fear, as we identify with and realize that the grief overwhelming the characters might happen also to us.