“In Elaine Equi’s brilliant Decoy, each poem is a ‘neatly folded labyrinth.’ Here everything is artifice—like the labyrinth, a deadly little joke, one we’re ‘in on’ until, suddenly, we’re not so sure. The poems in this book are both spooky and spoofy. Eventually we realize that, despite its campy, B-movie trappings, the monster (our world) is real. We realize this gradually because of Equi’s light touch. Like Muhammed Ali, she floats while stinging.” —Rae Armantrout