Pass between the forms like an animal among the grass, leaving only the fragrance in its fur. I aspire to be the humble apprentice of that animal.' This is how Chantal Maillard (Brussels, 1951) defines the writing work that began almost three decades ago and with which she has founded a hybrid, open, border territory, between poetry and philosophy, essay and diaristic reflection, the personal and the collective, the human and the non-human ... Maillard's work aspires to embody the work of consciousness and at the same time to heal us of our blindness as a species, our inordinate pride. This volume, which brings together the strictly poetic work composed so far this century, of To Kill Plato (2004; National Poetry Prize) from now on, it is a lesson of life and thought, capable of enlightening us and giving us comfort, relief. She says it herself: 'I write so that poisoned water can be drunk.'