"How remarkable that in the span of thirty pages, we are able to travel so deeply from near-despair to that area we call acceptance, which is the threshold of hope. Drawn in by Michal Mahgerefteh’s natural poetic gift, we find, on the one hand “songs of grief / for ancient places” rooted in a father’s passions, and on the other, a “tiny vial of happiness” in each of his daughter’s attempts to draw him to her, to a present of shared living. The poems revolve around two powerful characters—father, daughter—and the tension between them soon becomes our tension; we suffer with them and are ultimately uplifted by the fierce love underlying their relation. One of the most poignant verses (and there are many) is found in the penultimate poem: “So we both weep Kaddish for God the Father.” When understanding seems unattainable, the willingness to weep together will be the love that binds us. Bravo to this poet, for allowing us to share in a painful journey, that we might learn from it to bind our wounds and, more importantly, the wounds of those we love."

Sofia M. Starnes

Author of The Consequence of Moonlight and other works

Virginia Poet Laureate, Emerita

"FishMoon is a penetrating and brilliant performance of your complicated and disappointing relationship with your father. Thirty-two poems chronicle a visit to Israel to spend three weeks with him. The title of each poem is one word; if you read those words taken alone together, they preview the story of alienation and even resentment toward the father for his inability or refusal to commune with you, to show you the love and warmth you longed for. Scene after scene infused with sensory images of food and place are filled with dialogue that never connects. Artfully you present the reader a man crippled by the loss of a life he hoped for, by having to trade the role of teacher for a caregiver to his sick wife, and you the daughter tightening your heart like his fist even at his death, unable to say Kaddish. Bravo, Michal!"