God has retired to Florida, like everyone else. He can't sleep. He watches TV. In the long poem that opens Debora Greger's sixth book, God , he has retreated to the swamps, where, in the lush particulars of the subtropics, a singular moral world is discovered. Wherever Greger is, she has a traveler's eye; her poetry finds the past beneath the present-where the "Eden of Florida," as the last poem ironically calls it, is an Eden with alligators. This is the work of a powerful, meditative poet, whose God is deceptively quiet, perfectly timed, and seriously amused.
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