In The Machinery of Grace, Patrice Boyer Claeys expertly weaves lines from voices as diverse as Toi Derricotte and Emily Dickinson into Centos which are entirely clear, tight, and cohesive. This is collage that’s so seamless, it becomes something else—a realistic portrait of motherhood, of domesticity, of grief, and of grace. Here, she is crying out in the voices of so many with one solid and constant I. Like unruly hair braided tight and neat, her lines reflect their tamer more than their original selves. This work becomes one important voice. She is “a woman looking backwards,” but also, she is like the water images which run through, she’s rushing ever forward, changing the landscape, binding it all together. Her words show us that language is the machinery of grace. It’s how we cope with things like the death of a parent, and it’s how we find ourselves.

--Sara Moore Wagner, author of Hooked Through 

Patrice Boyer Claeys’ The Machinery of Grace employs the cento form (from the Italian word for patchwork), deftly stitching together borrowed lines to create a tapestry out of grief and loss. But the real machinery behind this collection is this poet’s ability to pluck lines from the source like ripened fruit and crystallize them into moments of grace that transcend even death, invoking childhood’s “muscle memory of love,” the daily pleasures of a cup of coffee or beer’s “frothy feet,” and the consolations of “blue, the most grateful color.” Examining the rich and seamless weave of these poems, we find ourselves in the hands of a true artisan of words: “My hands are for stringing / the best parts of things . . . / the click, the whirr, the eddying forward.”
 
--Angela Narciso Torres, author of Blood Orange and What Happens Is Neither

Patrice Boyer Claeys has a sharp eye and ear for poetic lines that cut like a knife, soothe like a mother’s gentle hands, or make you want to break out in a song of praise. Borrowing lines from a wide variety of poets, Claeys has an unusual talent for weaving them into the tapestry of rich, meaningful poems. There are centos here that break the heart and others that bring hope and, as the title suggests, grace. Once you have read The Machinery of Grace, you will want to read it again and again.  
 
--Wilda Morris, author of Pequod Poems: Gamming with Moby-Dick


In her opening poem Claeys declares, “We have / risen from roots / born to age and die.” Her message tells of the wreckage aging wreaks and the emptiness that arises from the death of her mother. But Claeys does not leave us bereft; she travels along the “slope” of her mother’s life to give new meaning to familial relationships and the powers of renewal and love. These poems are built “of ripened memory…of something more permanent.”
 
--Carole Mertz, author of Toward a Peeping Sunrise

Review in Mom Egg Review by Cammy Thomas, Oct 2020