It’s moments like these I feel that I feel extremely sad that I don’t live in the same country as the author and have no chance of meeting them. “Howling at the Moon” is a masterpiece of the most personal and heartbreaking sort, taking the reader into the inner workings of the poet’s mind. I admired the poems not just from what emotions they conveyed, but also the way in which they did so. As a poet I fell in love with the wording, with both the subtle and the outright ways in which emotions came to life.
Some of the lines hit me in that sensitive spot between the ribs, lines such as:
She asks me what I would say if I could tell anyone anything. ‘Stanch this bleeding,’ I say. ‘Please. I can’t handle always seeing red.’ The next day, her lipstick is pink.
Or the even the more easily relatable:
truth is, i have no one to give the poems to. instead, i hold them all in my ribcage until i can’t breathe around them.
Three poems in particular – “Atlantean”, “Wishes & Fruit Stains”, and “For the Boys with Hungry Mouths” – were each perfect yet for different reasons. The diapason this collection exuded was overwhelming. It was like feeling someone snuggling up beside me, not necessarily asking for their wounds to be kissed better, but rather to have those wounds acknowledged. And I admired that and connected to it on several levels. “Howling at the Moon” is authentic and captivating, relatable for its sexual tones, its pain, frustration, and endless desire to keep going and keep howling.