The systems created for men by men are not sufficient in caring for women. Different bodies and chemical makeups, of course, require different treatments.
These poems cast a spell, feverish and lyric, punctuated by moments of clarity: glass-sharp, hard-hitting, grounding us for just a moment, a breath, an ache.
[S]quint at the story one way and you see a woman’s life hollowed out by the very privilege that allows her to coast; look at it from another angle and you see a regular person living a multi-faceted, flawed life.
If shame works by convincing us that we are bad, by pinning us into a definition of badness, then the poems in Rummage resist by refusing to be pinned at all.
Lazarin has written her heart out chronicling the lives of recognizable girls and women as they come of age, find their footing and chart their path through life’s curves, on their own terms.
These poems, poised at the intersections of the material, the metaphorical, and the spiritual, fold into and out of one another as their boundaries dissolve with question after question.