The poems in Andrew McMillan’s deeply moving fourth collection present a series of separations. Lovers, long-term and fleeting, part ways; the self, as we know it, becomes estranged from itself; the poetic line fractures – splits apart – in order to let in breath, take stock: so raw memories may close, and slowly heal. With stark honesty, and no hint of self-righteousness, these poems weigh up complicity and blame, attending closely to the love and anger buried beneath the surface of every life, every relationship – excavating it with the poet’s precision and clarity of thought.

There are poems that call upon Robinson Crusoe, Michelangelo, or Achilles, their presence confirming the timeless universality of this most human theme: how we must pass through loss, grow beyond grief. With his usual close attention, McMillan examines emotional history and its rupture – ‘when what used to feel so heavy is just dust on the shelf and in the hand’ – and what possibilities might begin to emerge in the aftermath. This book examines individual memories, objects, messages and moments, using them to work towards an ultimate reckoning: what is it that might remain after everything we held certain has gone?