Disclaimer: I'm friendly with the author. Like, I can't remember if we've met in person, but we've traded zines and are connected via social media.

Recommendation: if you're not a big poetry reader, keep a book of poems in your bathroom. For me, at least, poems are more powerful when they're read in ones and twos. Do some people read a book of poems the same way they do a novel?

Anyway: Jessy's poems are about everyday life as a person who loves--her kids, her spouse, and even humanity, as is evidenced by the title poem. In it, the narrator DJ's a suicide hotline's hold music, bring the callers out of themselves with borderline obnoxiousness and record skips.

The poems are funny; some of them are diagram poems, like

and a poignant bar chart of "Number of people you slept with in my bed in New York City (including me)."

A poem called Taxes bruised my middle-aged heart

You showed me how
at the top of our taxes
there’s a bold black box for
DECEASED.

They don’t want you to miss it.
They don’t want you to accidentally claim
your spouse is still around.

How we laughed.

But someday one of us
(only one)
will check that box.