Jared Carter’s most recent book of poems, The Land Itself, is from Monongahela Books in Morgantown, West Virginia. He lives in Indiana.
Fragment of a queen’s face (Metropolitan Museum of Art)
Remnant
It is part of a woman’s face,
broken off now
And canceled, except for the grace
of those lips. How
Much damage was done, for that smile
to emerge from
The stone? For that grace to beguile?
Once you were one
Who sensed the uncanny, the strange.
Then came the call
About changing your life. You changed
nothing at all.
Clementine Unbound 
What strikes me about Carter’s formal poems is their seeming effortlessness — grace that beguiles, as the poem says.
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