Indian English poet Arundhati Subramaniam’s latest poetry collection The Gallery of Upside Down Women brings together pieces about women from Indian myth and scripture across regions and languages, women in general, and glimpses into ordinary lives rendered fresh and extraordinary through evocative expression. Subramaniam is among the best known Indian English poets and for her work on women saint poets. The poems dedicated to these devotional voices live up to her previous work about the poets and the light in which these poets deserve to be seen.

Mani Rao, who counts acclaimed translations of Kalidasa and Bhagavad Gita from Sanskrit among her accomplishments, has long been a quiet force in South Asian poetry circles. Her latest extensive collection of original poems, So That You Know, is a work of poise and clarity of thought. The poems engage with diverse themes and resist straightjacketing, yet broadly they explore conversations, relationships, nature, life and death, and mythologies that flow into each other.

Prose poetry can be hard to get a handle on. It is literally oxymoronic, like “documentary fiction”; such terms are perhaps a recognition that most categories are really endpoints on a spectrum. As one now does in these situations, one asks AI, which unhelpfully replied: “Prose poetry is a hybrid literary form that adopts the structural format of prose—paragraphs without line breaks—while employing the stylistic and rhetorical devices of poetry.”

Of all the horrors of this benighted century, the genocide of the Yazidis at the hands of ISIS a decade ago stands out for its extreme brutality and inhumanity. At the time, few people outside the region were aware of the group’s existence; as non-Muslims (Yazidism has pre-Zoroastrian roots), Yazidis were specifically targeted. The world has by now, alas, largely moved on to other atrocities.

A collection of 49 poems of varying forms, from scattered verses to prose poetry, Primordial is more than the sum of its parts. Mai Der Vang, equipped with the eloquence and talent for crafting vivid imagery that had made her previous collection a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize, brings together the overlaying experiences of the Hmong people, ravaged and displaced by war, and of the elusive, ethereal, endangered saola, a rare species of bovine with a pair of long sword-like horns that only came to be known and classified in scientific terms in 1992.

Li Qingzhao (1084-1151 CE) is considered the greatest woman poet in Chinese history but, as translator Wendy Chen writes in her introduction, Li “remains relatively unknown in the West.” Chen, who first heard Li’s poetry as a child, is determined to help change this. The Magpie at Night is Chen’s translation of the Song-dynasty writer in a collection of poetry that feels both of its era but also carries a timeliness that renders Li’s poetry as accessible as it is moving.