From the co-publisher of acclaimed poetry press Omnidawn, Risk engages directly with limitations, both those that structure the literal form of the poems and literary form and those that are both unavoidable and self-inflicted. In Risk , award-winning poet Rusty Morisson uses a constraining form of seven-syllable segments with breaks between to explore questions of limitation. In these poems, she is not just writing about constraints, but living inside and seeing how to manage them. In this way, the speaker of these poems actively experiences limitations as event, not aftermath. Drawing on the idea of philosopher and critic Hélène Cixous who writes that "the border makes up the homeland, it prohibits and gives passage in the same stroke," in Risk Morrison aims where the border and framings she uses offer understanding and where boundaries should be pushed against and passed beyond, as frightening as that might be.
There is a lot of strength and beauty and exploration in this collection. The imposition of a seven-syllable segment across the collection is a curious one - at first, these pauses feel like chasms, bisecting every line of every poem, sometimes gracefully, sometimes clumsily, which is beautiful in itself. After a while, though - they fade away. You get used to the visual cadence of it and it becomes easy to forget the division is there, which is especially curious considering that the description of this collection cites boundaries as being the chief theme.
Speaking of themes, though - my enjoyment of this collection was highly colored by the undisclosed yet exceedingly prominent thread of disordered eating that wound its way through the entire collection. The glorification of starvation, hunger and thinness was to such a degree that I was actually shocked that neither the description nor the reviews on the back cover mentioned it, at all. I'm not necessarily saying this needed a trigger warning, but some mention of this, again, really significant theme, is warranted, in my opinion.
Setting that aside, there is much beautiful writing here. It's a feminine, thoughtful, delicately visceral voice, navigating memory and shame and pain and exploration gracefully.