Description
I want to roll up and down these poems, and revel in their bleak and lovely castings of womanhood, and all the scenes we get confronted by it, in shops, in dreams, in make-up goo. The imagery has a Baudelairan palette of the supernatural feminine but with kitchen sink reveals that made me cheer every time. It’s remarkable the way Holt’s lines flag and memento mori the ludicrousness of a day, in a whole life, in small towns, in this world, and the way the zones between crafted couplets hold fleeting and felt truths still. This small sequence is a great hyphenated movement of humour and Elizabeth Bishop-like accuracy. – Holly Pester
This poet has to no reason to be jealous of birds for their direction or natural instincts – she possesses both in the careful, measured craft of her poems, which say so much about herself, the world, and indeed, our place within it all. – Vic Pickup, Everybody’s Reviewing [read Vic Pickup’s full review here]
