Diana Goetsch’s eighth collection of poems, her first since coming out as a trans woman, introduces us to another country, where an airport, a Starbucks, a family dinner are as confounding as the riddle of the Sphinx. Maybe the answers to how to navigate America are in plain sight, spelled out in a pop song or on a milk carton. Maybe we’re destined to be tumbleweed, “drifting from nowhere to nowhere” in no man’s land. Through it all, Goetsch remains who she’s always been—essentially a love poet, patrolling the shadowlands for what can be redeemed.