If you don't know this poet, you should. This is the blurb I wrote for this lovely book:
In her third collection of poetry, Chelsea Woodard's gifts are in full bloom. Her dexterity with rhyme, rhythm, and tactile animal and mineral imagery recalls Sylvia Plath's most formidable and monumental poems of memorial. Woodard's craft is, in fact, so polished here as to be almost transparent, showcasing a richness of heartfelt tender emotion, a quietly melancholy awareness of the bodily frailty and transience that defines our shared humanity. Her blend of sophisticated technique and deeply affecting poignancy proves that, like the goddess Eris's apples, verse can be outwardly "golden and sweet" and yet remain challengingly complex and multidimensional; the poems in this book are at once artfully formed and appealingly free from "the gnarled grip // of manners."