The Blue Mountain Review Issue 14

Page 125

Narcissus-esque, into her world. This is read again in “Vagabond”, “I danced, you dropped scarlet/and lilac scarves at my feet, /you doused me in the thick sweat/of wine, stained me henna/with your rough and unread palms.” There is nearly too much to unpack with the subtle swaying from one culture to another – effortlessly – with the “dance” here a motion between the poet and reader. The movement is natural as the revolution of seasons. “Barefoot Rondelet” is a poem to be shared to the hilt, “To be reborn./step barefoot from this world, praying/to be reborn/wild-eyed, seared by life, and graying/already with wisdom, forewarned:/it’s sad, sweet, brief delaying/to be reborn. This precise/concise poem could be the preface to the whole. Life is brief, beautiful, sensual, spiritual, and ever-evolving for the articulate mind with primal drive to see each day done well. There is no rush in Studdard’s style, nor is there melodrama of time wasted. I Ate the Cosmos for Breakfast is one of the best collections of poetry I’ve ever read. It is one worth keeping on the writing table or at your bedside to think big, be inspired, or help the dreams that find you in sleep be good ones. Like Walt Whitman, Melissa Studdard wants us to know she is starlight – as are her eyes on everything around her – as are we.

Issue 14 | Blue Mountain Review | 118