Laura Hamblin writes of good mothers and bad, women who married and those who didn't, lovers and "Celibacy at Forty-two." Her "weird sisters" forage for mice and toads and contemplate silicone implants. Some of her characters demonstrate pregnancy envy, while others seem content to share a space with three dogs and a cat.

She muses on the different roles assigned to girls and boys: "boys with shellacked / faces play basketball. / Closer to god ... / they know power, / ... I begin to bleed, / am taught with the other / girls to crochet, to knit / ... Dark skein-- / unraveling girl."

Contemplative and satisfying, Hamblin's observations on religion are particularly poignant, such as watching her son baptized at eight to "wash from him sins he did not commit." One of her weird sisters attempts repentance but then thinks of killing swine. Playful, full of meaning, her poems contain overlapping layers of understanding that prompt further contemplation.