Beast

Petit (Tiger Girl), who is of French, Welsh, and Indian heritage, embraces the landscapes of each of her countries of origin in potent brooding poems that explore trauma and transformation. Following the dark paths her memories forge, Petit documents scenes that seethe with life and startling imagery, “the air quivering with scented paths into the perfumed forest.” Many entries focus on the speaker’s mother: “how I can describe my mother to you/ is the task I’ve spent my life attempting.” She likens her mother, who suffered from mental illness, to a spider, “the giant ogress/ who hangs at the dense/ heart of my universe.” Elsewhere, she’s an octopus: “such a mistress of camouflage/ she can vanish inside her own hide/ instantly.” In these poems, the word hide serves both as an action and a camouflage, a “hide” or blind used by those who wish to go undetected as well as a skin or pelt. The meanings blend as the poet writes, “I peer out/ from the hide of my face.” Petit suggests that people are just as strange and dangerous as any tiger, caiman, or moor horse and require just as much caution. It’s a vivid and elegant collection. (June)