Written in part while Fenton's husband was deployed as a medic in Baghdad, Clamor loosely follows the narrative arc of weeks breathlessly suspended between imminences: word or silence, return or tragedy, heartbreak or gratitude. What emerges is both an emotional record and an intellectual mapping of what it means to exist in the margins of a war whose atrocities are filtered home through newscasters and computer screens and the distant voice of the beloved. Yet, these are poems that refuse to be sentimental or didactic. The speaker explores the mundane, the mythic and the prophetic in the same attenuated gaze-- planting pepper starts in the ground, recasting Dante's Beatrice, and listening to the barbed vowels of concertina wire thrum across a long distance line-- in an attempt to speak through the silence that shrouds the very unspeakable. At times quiet, at others cacophonous, these poems marry with lyric ferocity the personal and the political in an examination of language and love in 21st century wartime.