Editor
"Renwick recounts a sad time in her life, when a friend was dying and she suddenly became aware of the presence of crows. The dark birds in turn point her to the practice of counting crows, which is both a children's rhyming game and a form of divination in which the number of crows suggests events in the future. Eight crows augur death: nine crows reference a secret. Renwick combines these fragments with glimpses of imagery - a bed, the crows captures as silhouettes, a man's twisted body - to craft a lyrical and moving essay that works its magic through poetic accretion rather than narrative logic." -Holly Willis, L.A. Weekly
