Perforated is Chloe Yelena Miller's second full-length collection of poetry, and it holds a particular and beautiful question at its center: who owns a loss? The book is structured around what she calls the New York City poems — prose poems born from a lyric essay about returning to Lower Manhattan on the anniversary of September 11th, a day she experienced as a child in New Jersey who did not personally lose someone, but who nonetheless lost something.

The collection asks us to sit with the strange complexity of grief — public and private, collective and intimate, named and nameless — and to consider the possibility that all of it is real, and all of it counts. Chloe's poems don't resolve that question so much as they hold it tenderly open, the way grief actually lives inside us.

This episode is for the person who has ever felt uncertain about whether their grief was theirs to claim — whether their loss was significant enough, public enough, close enough to warrant the weight it carries.