This tiny, unassuming, staple bound beauty arrived in a rainstorm. It required the old hairdryer and tweezer rescue mission, its blemished and bruised watermarks now reflecting the tumult and power of words held inside.
Aimee Cliff really hit me in the plexus. She writes with great strength inside a vulnerable vacuum of memories. Her words are the experience of time spent in an abusive relationship, sharing with the reader her own poetic recovery.
It is not harsh in its retelling. The poems Aimee has chosen in this collection, written over a two year period, blankets us. One feels comfortable to share in past pain and that is because her perfection as a writer knows how to impart this with beauty, wonder and dignity.
When the grief wraps you in plastic, that weakened state makes the tricks of the manipulator easier to perform. Their controlling forces quash self and your own voice disappears, sacrifice becomes a masochistic lemniscate. It is often hard to recognise, when sorry holds so much promise. Her eyes opened up to see the patterns in the tricks, when loves slight of hand chimera comes down hard.
Having the strength and clear mind of seeing into the future, we prepare ourselves for outcomes that destroy us. Aimee wants to tell us that we can be alive without them. Bonehouse surprised me with its power to awaken.
Publisher Martin Appleby supports many brilliant voices, much respect for his vision and highlighting poets and poetry of the calibre found here.