Poetry. Did you feel that cold spot in the room? Did you see the cleaning through the window, another grieving ritual? In a different neighborhood, the shroud says pamilya, pamilya. Gills itch under the patches of fiberglass, and a city comes alive in each "isolated cell of an animated beehive." Hossannah Asuncion's debut collection, OBJECT PERMANENCE, maps between all meanings of address. Tangling the softest hands and truest questions, Asuncion holds open every automatic door, suspends all announcements of departure.