A New Language for Falling Out of Love is a good book to be reading when your plane down, when the dumptruck runs the redlight, when the neighborhood sugar factory explodes. Enamored with the flames & pleasures of the world, it also sees them passing & processed already in the spark. Through prose poems that mix the meditative & the lyric, the book haunts itself with its own alertness, reminding us that despite all these big thoughts & worldviews & romcoms & cathedrals “My body is the only lucid thing” & that this is a hopeful truth. It assures us that we are all possible. —Mathias Svalina, Destruction Myth Meghan Privitello's A New Language for Falling Out of Love is built—brick by gorgeous brick—of prose poems that restlessly investigate the bewilderment of being alive. These poems, by turns surreal, sensual, humorous, and rigorous, work to dissolve and reconstruct the self as lover, (potential) mother, believer, visionary, and inventively articulate speaker: "If you collected enough stones you could build a mouth which is the only way to say What if I don't want any of this, What if the body was born to float away, What if I go and go." The poems are charged with so much frenetic energy and light, they pulse in their boxes—urgently reaching out to the reader as if each act of speech was love, was life itself: "Here, it is the last act of intimacy before our borders become electric." —Allison Benis White, Small Porcelain Head