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You Might Be Sorry You Read This
You Might Be Sorry You Read This is a stunning debut, revealing how breaking silences and reconciling identity can refine anger into something both useful and beautiful.
A poetic memoir that looks unflinchingly at childhood trauma (both incestuous rape and surviving exposure in extreme cold), it also tells the story of coming to terms with a hidden Indigenous identity when the poet discovered her Métis heritage at age 38.
This collection is a journey of pain, belonging, hope, and resilience. The confessional poems are polished yet unpretentious, often edgy but humorous; they explore trauma yet prioritize the poet’s story. Honouring the complexities of Indigenous identity and the raw experiences of womanhood, mental illness, and queer selfhood, these narratives carry weight. They tell us “You need / only be the simple / expression of the divine / intent / that is your life.”
There is a lifetime in these poems.
A poetic memoir that looks unflinchingly at childhood trauma (both incestuous rape and surviving exposure in extreme cold), it also tells the story of coming to terms with a hidden Indigenous identity when the poet discovered her Métis heritage at age 38.
This collection is a journey of pain, belonging, hope, and resilience. The confessional poems are polished yet unpretentious, often edgy but humorous; they explore trauma yet prioritize the poet’s story. Honouring the complexities of Indigenous identity and the raw experiences of womanhood, mental illness, and queer selfhood, these narratives carry weight. They tell us “You need / only be the simple / expression of the divine / intent / that is your life.”
There is a lifetime in these poems.
- GenresPoetry
104 pages, Paperback
Published May 11, 2022
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608 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews
September 24, 2023
The letter at the end is what I wish I could tell my mother. ❤️🩹
April 9, 2022
The prose and poetry in this slim volume brought me to my own childhood memories that I had not visited for years. I was often struck by the words as if they were an arrow to my heart. The author offers the reader a taste of what the legacy of trauma can be, leaving room for the reader's own resonance and meaning making. The reader is taken on a journey of reclaiming identity, forming boundaries and with the foundation of a newfound self-hood an emergence into the world.
May 17, 2022
Note: I work for the publisher.
Michelle Poirier Brown's book of poetry is remarkable, honest, generous, hard-hitting.
Rather than write a review, I want to highlight Laura Apol's blurb, which says everything I would say, but brilliantly!
“One of the functions of poetry is to make you uncomfortable.” This epigraph, by Pádraig Ó Tuama, begins Michelle Poirier Brown’s debut collection—a collection that intends, unapologetically, to discomfort the reader. With unflinching precision and the exactness of a fine poet’s eye, Poirier Brown challenges her readers to encounter not only her childhood trauma but, ultimately, the power of her self—her late-discovered Métis identity, her navigation of PTSD, her unwillingness to settle for less than the truth. In the final poem, “Self-Portrait of the Poet,” she concludes, “go ahead. look. / Look as long as you like.” Invitation or command, it’s a hard look Poirier Brown offers. It may make readers uncomfortable. But they won’t be sorry.”
—Laura Apol, author of A Fine Yellow Dust
Michelle Poirier Brown's book of poetry is remarkable, honest, generous, hard-hitting.
Rather than write a review, I want to highlight Laura Apol's blurb, which says everything I would say, but brilliantly!
“One of the functions of poetry is to make you uncomfortable.” This epigraph, by Pádraig Ó Tuama, begins Michelle Poirier Brown’s debut collection—a collection that intends, unapologetically, to discomfort the reader. With unflinching precision and the exactness of a fine poet’s eye, Poirier Brown challenges her readers to encounter not only her childhood trauma but, ultimately, the power of her self—her late-discovered Métis identity, her navigation of PTSD, her unwillingness to settle for less than the truth. In the final poem, “Self-Portrait of the Poet,” she concludes, “go ahead. look. / Look as long as you like.” Invitation or command, it’s a hard look Poirier Brown offers. It may make readers uncomfortable. But they won’t be sorry.”
—Laura Apol, author of A Fine Yellow Dust
November 3, 2025
I was not sorry to read this poetry book. This collection contained discovery, healing, and a storytelling that shows and makes us feel. Some line stick out, like, "My eyes are hungry. / I wait days."
December 15, 2022
Beautiful ❤️
December 23, 2022
“An effect on the breath is a prize.”
February 12, 2023
It is true to its title. The abuse make it uncomfortable reading.
Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews