This slender volume of poetry seduced me before I’d even opened it. The enticing cover drew me in; the wide range of emotions conveyed by the selection of poetry kept me there. From the playful to the melancholy, the raunchy to the sublime, the searing honesty of this Capetonian poet conveyed images and emotions I could easily relate to.
As I haven’t a maternal bone in my body (seriously, the maternal gene fairy was absent at my birth) I was surprised that the poems that shook me the most were those dealing with the poet’s discovery of her infertility. The painful process of mourning moved me deeply and made me review my own choice not to bear children.
This aching cry was well-balanced with the comforting warmth of parental love and the heat of erotic love. Perhaps the only poem where I felt the poet slipped into unawareness was “In Praise of Younger Men”. For all the valid reasons she prefers those delicious younger men, she didn’t explore the most obvious: do these young men also meet some of her maternal yearnings?
From the exploration of a parallel life to the unexpected joys of nature, this volume packs punch after punch. It deserves a second read, so that one is not lead “to wonder how many other epiphanies we miss because we can’t believe they might materialise in our particular path.”