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Wreck Me is a primer of emotional violence—a primer because, as these unassumingly gorgeous poems know so well, we can only be beginners when we confront our wish to be seized, transported, remade. The violence within us is everywhere in dialogue with the violence without, but nothing is romanticized here, not the wish to be wrecked, not the wish to wreck; the body is a metaphor for nothing. The language of these poems is nonetheless like the body—familiar, mysterious, vulnerable, strange. “We love / that ravishment,” says Sally Ball of what we simultaneously fear and crave, “we trust it.” These poems are ravishing.
Wreck Me is an entrancing collection. From the first line to the last, we are tugged into a sensibility and a world as familiar as our own world, and as strange. Sally Ball leaves no line unelectrified. Each poem feels finely wrought and completely newborn, which is exactly the point of poetry.
“What deeply impresses me about Ball’s work is her resistance to the allure of tone alone, of cutting a certain figure for the reader to consider gorgeous and mysterious. Instead, she presents the density of a mind struggling and thinking.”
—Ron Slate, On the Seawall
“Ball is graceful as a content-bearing poet leaning into metaphysics. But she does not limit herself to commentary and does not lapse into unhinged mysticism; she is masterful as a poet. Wreck Me holds the line and is a philosophically elegant book to read… and reread… and reread.”
—Scott Hightower, Fogged Clarity