It is almost startling that the two people pictured on the cover of Iowa State graduate Kel Munger’s poetry collection “The Fragile Peace You Keep” are so blurry, because the worlds Munger creates in her book are so vivid.

But there they are — in stark contrast of the vibrant words within — and maybe not as out of place as they seem.

Among Munger’s recollections of her experiences as an Iowa State student, an officer with the Ames Police Department, a lesbian and an opponent of racism are allusions to her hopes, dreams, fears, shortcomings and strengths.

The first section of the book, “Ten Codes,” deals with Munger as the police dispatcher/jailer. “10-78/Officer Needs Assistance” covers the topic of being hurt by a criminal on the job.

“Caught Shoplifting, A Boy Runs Home and Kills Himself” describes the pain that sometimes gnaws at Munger’s soul — the price she pays for upholding law and order, and the consequences that wearing the star of justice sometimes brings.

But this section is about more than just being a police officer. Some of the poems (especially “The Police Department’s Night Dispatcher”) paint pictures of Ames as Munger sees it, and it is not a pretty sight.

She describes Ames as “comatose” and an “outline of a town not quite filled in.”

Others (“What Cops Don’t Know” and “After Making Love, We Hear Sirens”) detail the conflict that occurs between Munger’s occupation and her sexuality. In the former, she describes a cop that “hates queers,” not realizing that Munger is a lesbian.

“What Cops Don’t Know” makes its readers wonder if Munger is subconsciously equating her sexuality with punishment.

The second section of the book, “Poems for the Ghosts,” is filled with poems about World War II from a Jewish perspective.

Among these are the wonderful “Mendel the Snatcher,” which describes how a young boy steals to survive and is caught and killed, and “Job’s Wife,” a poem dedicated to ISU professor Faye Whitaker.

The third section, “Re-membering,” features a wide variety of poems focusing on different subjects. And the fourth section, “Touring the Coast,” offers a slice of Americana.

The basis of the poems in each section is the longing for something else that Munger feels. It may be acceptance, or it may be a long-awaited peace from whatever is haunting her.

Depending on the poem, Munger may or may not have found the answers she was seeking.

She realizes in the dynamite poem “The Butcher” that this occupation is going nowhere but down, and that love will always hurt in “After Many Years, Griselda Loses Patience.”

But Munger herself assures us that everything is going to be all right.

It doesn’t matter that America is failing (“in this country of unkindness, what fills the mind leaves the spirit starving” — “The 911-Dispatcher Reads Boethius On Duty”) and “there are no lesbians in the Midwest” (from “Re-membering: The Color of Silence”).

As painful as some of the events in Munger’s life have been, she refuses to give in to the pain and loneliness. She tries and tries again and effectively makes her life a better place.

This is why Munger’s poetry is so beautiful.

While many poets are more concerned about rhyming the ends of lines and throwing out meaningless adjectives, Munger remains focused on telling stories and anecdotes that affect the human spirit in a profound way.

“The Fragile Peace You Keep” is an excellent effort from a world-class poet. It is intimate, familiar, scathing and realistic.

5 stars out of five

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Ben Jones is a sophomore in English from Des Moines.