In the title poem of Man Bergman's collection, The
Disappearing Room, we are offered the spectacle of
what I assume is an interactive display to demonstrate
perspective (we are at the South Florida Science
Museum, West Palm Beach, so this sort of figures).
Although the disinterestedness of this poem -the cool
analysis, the non-conclusive language - is not typical
of Bergman's poems it perhaps reveals her process:

in many of the poems It is this compulsion to look
closely and then at a distance, to move perspective
and viewpoint, that offers us insights from unexceptional
subjects. A series of poems in the collection
are from 'The Photographer's' viewpoint and there
is a poem about a projectionist, and paintings and
painters feature too and there is a constant detailed
observation of the external. Here is the beginning
of 'Landscape':

Wonderful stuff; painterly but more.
While Bergman Is able to maintain a neutral, enquiring
stance, a good portion of her poems chart her own
life, from childhood in America to acquiring a life in
England. She is able to look at both parts of her personal
history from across an ocean. Her poem 'East 13th Street
or How l met my Husband' is a gorgeous spooling-out of
state-side detail ending with the breathlessly charming
synchronicity of:

Chance plays more than a part here, as It does in
'Instant Replay' (which I have just now written out
into my commonplace book), a poem that is filmic in
its intensity and made me drop my own son a text to
check he is fine. It would be vulgar to quote it here, so
I will only say that it is simply about parental love and
the fear that comes with it. It is typical of the whole
collection: absolute attention to detail, emotion held
in careful check until the final moment, a controlled
poem that is completely approachable. This, and so
many other poems, makes for a very fine first collection.