Steven D. Schroeder's poems this week firmly push tongue to cheek and present us with a mouth full of snark. The poet moves through possibility with each line, only to close that possibility on his reader. What Ifs are quickly followed by Probably Nots. We often look to poems for their redemptive quality, but Schroeder's work here shows us that there isn't always a nice tie-up or quiet realization at the end of the muck. That no, sometimes there is just muck and more muck. Even the close of "Gin Don't Mess with Me," with its final word "Amen," takes on a troubled connotation, and Schroeder makes us ask of the everyday what it is that we're actually blessing.