“Enter freely and of your own will!” After a hellish coach ride up a mountain pass, each of our ten poets crosses a threshold – perhaps a little dishevelled. But the master of the castle remains oddly reclusive; is this stop-off or destination, sanctuary or trap? Move through the book as you would a candlelit corridor: every poem here is an unlocked chamber door, behind which lies mirrors, dust, and the temptation of the flesh …