On the front flap of the dust jacket, the book reads:

This book is a message in a bottle.
This book is a letter.
This book does not let up.

This book does NOT let up, indeed. "What place have we in our histories except the present?" (123) Gorman asks in "War: What, Is it Good?" The book is a memoir, largely of the pandemic. But to read it is remember that it was more than Covid-19. It was a reckoning. It was a nightmare and a dream. It tested all of us, not all in the same ways.

Gorman's gifts with language are woven through poems that rhyme and poems that don't, pieces of prose by Corporal Roy Plummer (1896-1966) interspersed with Gorman's verse, a list of scenes to make up a filmic "Monomyth" that narrates the crumbling of normalcy beginning in December 2019 in Wuhan, through apocalyptic brushfires in Australia, through the murder of George Floyd, ultimately to emerge/submerge into the Unordinary World:

"We are not all heroes, but we are all at least human. This is not a
closing, but an opening, a widening--not a yawn but a scream, a
poem sung. What will we admit of & into ourselves. There is no such thing as "all over" and "all done". (191)

The short poem "Anonymous" on 180 features white letters on a black mask, an emblem so charged with meaning in this Unordinary World.

The title of the collection, Call Us What We Carry, truly captures a sense of the book as a whole, and is not just a reference to the penultimate poem "What We Carry" nor the poem "Call Us" (34) wherein we find that exact line. Naming and carrying both feature in much of the work, as does navigation and light.

There are seven sections of the book: Requiem, What a Piece of Wreck is Man, Earth Eyes, Memoria, Atonement, Fury & Faith, and Resolution. These titles become more like beacons as you read through the collection and pick up the various threads. For example, in the poem "Lucent", which is the first piece of "Earth Eyes", the meditation on lumen, lucent..."Our requiem as raptus" (60) reminds us of the role of light in a requiem Mass (luceat eis, lux aeterna) but also how "perhaps it is we who make/Falsities of luminscence--" (61).

In the middle of the book, in a piece called "Pre-Memory", Gorman reminds us:
"Storytelling is the way that unarticulated memory becomes art, becomes artifact, becomes fact, becomes felt again, becomes free."

Yes, the book does not let up, nor should it. We need to feel again. We need to be free.