Sallyanne Rock’s debut pamphlet published on April 7th reminds me of what walking across hot coal on a summer day would feel like. It’s unapologetically raw, a strong punch in the gut, a visual diary of domestic abuse, going through trauma and navigating the crisis of identity. It reminds me of what Emily Dickinson claims about poetry—after reading Rock’s work, you feel like your head has been chopped off because of being thrown in emotional turmoil and unnerving questions that peel your skin and bones off bit by bit.
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