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review by stimmyabby

Donna Williams’s poems have a ticklish texture and a deep soul. They melt in your mouth and drip all over the walls. I cannot tell the poems from the songs.

“I’ve heard it said, a broken biscuit
is the best one in the tin.
You gather up the pieces
and put them, put them,
put them together again.”

“Victors write the history. Pictures drawn of me
are those which pose no threat to the secrets they must keep.
Did the doggies bite you? They ripped you limb from limb.
And you just ran around in circles as they bit you once again.”

“It’s crispy and it’s crunchy or it’s sluggily and wet.
Some think that it’s munchy, others keep it like a pet.
On a handkerchief, or hidden underneath the seat.
You can see them in the car
as they’re driving down the street.…
Worry not, at what I’ve got.
You’ve got your own.
It’s only snot.”

Someone would call her childish. She makes me want to dance.

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