"Q" is for Queyras

I'm weak on poetry, so I've never even heard of this author--Sina Queyras (or any other poets beginning with "Q" on my quick search).  I so need to read more.  Then again, who doesn't?!?!?

Nonetheless, below is a section from her work Eurphoria:

 2

Dear Time, you swallowed us whole, swallowed us lovely, sharp as bones

Crimping sadly under foot my benign, my flotsam and crabs thin as leaves

Your smoothing, your sinking in. Mornings or mooring, or wallowing

Jericho: tapioca air indolent. I am still there, supple and driftwood, you lovely,

You loved me, your memory dark and west, thoughts like tugboats stitching

The horizon, you pulling me, my pudding, my thin crustacean, sideways

In the late afternoon, your gaze, having so soon forgotten the sharpness

Of mornings, the bite of your look serrating the hour: my treasures, all

Of them, for the pleasure of that slice once more, of our dangling,

You and me, the lot of us in some car, driving some hour, mapless.