I’ve been meaning to read something written by Wrath James White for a while now. While he is better known for his work in the horror, splatterpunk, and even bizarro realms, I opted for one of his books of poetry. It is National Poetry Month, after all, and I do have a soft spot for horror poetry. That, and I find something about the title incredibly romantic, in a ghoulish sort of way. What can I say, I’m a bit of a ghoul.
This collection of poetry is everything the description says and more. It is dark and beautiful. It’s haunting and heartfelt. And while I’m not sharing any of the spicier poems, it is decadently spicy. If vanilla is your favorite flavor, steer clear. It is an intimate look into Wrath James White and his wife’s sex life. Reading this feels like voyeurism. That is not criticism, it is a testament to the levels of intimacy experienced while reading these poems and shorts.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ for me. I can honestly say I’ve never read anything quite like it. It is honest and pure emotion. It’s not pretty or tender, but it’ll make you feel things. This book has earned a permanent spot on my poetry shelf. Now that I’ve had a taste, I’m ready to delve further into White’s catalog.
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