[Wigmore] goes after small moments with clear eyes; of course there’s the occasional Big Move, but the poems keep ending small, precisely small, and I’m jealous about her skill.

The characters speaking here aren’t all the same, so it’s not a question of her having found a voice that works (confessionally, for example) and ridden it until the legs fell off. No, she’s worked her craft relentlessly, and the result has been tremendous flexibility in the narrative or lyric voice. These voices share an eye for small things (a knitter’s arthritic hands, a camper’s presumption that a tent muffles all sounds) and a sense of enmeshedness in the worlds around us (social, ecological, familial, etc), but they come out sounding different.

— book addiction