It seems that every five years we are treated to another poetic cannon blast by Catherine Graham. Having carved out her particular niche on the CanLit map with her last two offerings, The Watch and Pupa, The Red Element is another groundbreaking delight. One of Graham's strengths is in her delivery of the short poem, shoehorning a constellatory array of notions into an elegant economy of words. The whimsy of her subject is frequently set out with aromatic grace, and yet nested even within the most innocent and innocuous of lines is just a hint of cheek. A few poems are quietly mournful, and despite the slimness of the volume, much of it packs a meaningful punch.
One of the prevailing aspects of Graham's poetry is the vivid and visceral approach she employs in the careful selection of her adjectives. Unlikely objects – or even fleeting sentiments, emotions, and unlikely attributes – seem to hum, coo, waddle, and billow. With such colourful description, she lends to her poetry a strong sense of texture that grants presence to the subject. However, such descriptive dependance can frequently become overbearing, but Graham's seasoned tooling and succinctness with the poetic line seems to know when to pull back. Her range of subjects always emerge like a herald of the ephemeral or esoteric, but they are patiently phrased in such a way was to underscore the universality of various experiences – one of the few hard-earned skills that truly allows good poetry to resonate and transcend its placement in space and time.