What is memory? Is it made of smoke, water, fire, or flesh? Can it be broken or fractured like a bone?
In Allyson Jeffredo’s debut poetry chapbook, Songs After Memory Fractures, there is a father’s ghost that both lingers and fades. The realm is Loss. Longing. Love. The daughter/speaker in this collection grasps repeatedly at the elusive, at the No Longer Here, and there seems to be an urgency to weave.