Ocean Vuong’s 'Time is a mother' is a poetic stake to the heart. There were so many poems in this collection that made me pause and almost weep and I say almost because the shock at Vuong's brilliance overpowered all other emotion. 

How does one write like this? Put all of this pain and love and life(one 'and' away from laugh) into paper and mould it seamlessly into a thing of beauty?

This was heartbreaking and messy and cracked open a small wound in my pathetic heart, like all good poetry is wont to do.