Review by Christy Lee Barnes
Future Tense is a memoir-in-verse spanning three years in poet Kelly Grace Thomas’ life—years in which she and her new husband grapple with the stress of trying to conceive while her mother battles ovarian cancer. These raw, searing poems blend compelling narrative with skillful, lyrical craft to form a stunning collection.
Near the opening of the collection, in “Body of Song,” she writes:
any woman
who wants to bloom
mother is sent
to dark. She must steep
inside a cave, damp with doubt,
until she pulls song
from her want.
Here, Thomas’s mother-in-law is sharing a Sufi tradition for women struggling to conceive. As the first section continues, Thomas finds herself overwhelmed by advice, remedies, and tactics, as she writes in “Feartilty,” “I bought it: / the basal thermo- / meter and ovulation / sticks, the bracelet / that buzzed every time / an egg exited or expired—”
As she navigates this strange world of fertility treatments and the unknown, her writing flows smoothly between conversational, casual lines and arresting, sometimes surreal images. This changing register adds a sense of urgency to the work, as in “Diagnosis,” which ends:
After I made us seafood chowder. We sat silent at the table as the clock took back its
promise, as winter stormed in every room.
Or in “Hush,” describing a moment of reconnection in marriage:
We slurped oysters
as the sun folded reason
like a hand. So much of this
life is knowing when
to listen. To let waves break
themselves. To remember
nights like this, littered with wings.
The strong, surprising imagery, like that night “littered with wings,” pulls the reader into the landscape of the poem.
Many poems also speak to the collective frustration and indignity women face in navigating the healthcare system. Here again, her arresting imagery conveys the intensity of her experience.
We shiver // in waiting rooms
Apologize // for the blood // Tried to erase // our own punctuation // as bills overturn
like underwear stains // as doctors diagnosed // blame
Future Tense feels almost novelistic—the stakes are high, and I sometimes caught myself rushing through a gorgeous poem just to follow the narrative. Especially compelling was the tension between her mother’s longing to be a grandmother and her husband’s desire to move more slowly on their fertility journey.
After I finished the collection, I found myself returning to reread “Body of Song” and thinking about that woman who “must steep / inside a cave, damp with doubt, / until she pulls song / from her want.”
As I read it again, I realized that, in a way, this is exactly what Thomas has done in this collection. She has not shied away from her grief of longing, but instead has sat with it, steeped in it, and pulled from it a song.
Future Tense by Kelly Grace Thomas
Alice James Books, October 13, 2026
76 pages; ISBN 978-1967149056
Christy Lee Barnes is an educator originally from Los Angeles who now lives in Seattle with her husband and toddler son. Her writing can be found in Prairie Schooner, Plume, Cream City Review, Cagibi, Spillway, Literary Mama, The Comstock Review, Tin House‚ Broadside Thirty, The Seattle Times, McSweeney’s, and elsewhere.