A poetry collection that weaves family history into an abrasive cloth, tailored into the full regalia, pre-moth-eaten and torn, of everyday life.

With dry and unflinching humour, Richard-Yves traces traumas back four generations and across families to reveal the flimsiness of male self-images, the perils of silence and the latent power of women oppressed by toxic beliefs.

His poetry surprises and unsettles with haunting images like empty hands that always seem to hold a hammer and sharp knives that are invisible in soapy water. As a spoken-word artist, Richard-Yves' infuses his words with pulse and rhythm creating evocative snapshots: a father as a derelict house, love like the last trip to the vet.

But he tackles the dark side of domestic life with compassion, honesty and a tinge of bewilderment: " Sometimes love / is a thing you catch with bare hands, carefully, / so as not to crush it.