The Small Blades Hurt

In The Small Blades Hurt, Erica Dawson picks up where her debut collection, Big-Eyed Afraid, leaves off: "The world's outside. I'm in." She moves from her border state Maryland to the true South, the Midwest, and back, delivering poems where a single memory can tangle with America's collective past. Dawson finds a home in the tradition of formal poetry, carving a place all her own, whether manic and cozy in a poem with only one rhyme, or calm in a crown of sonnets' claustrophobia. No matter the form, Dawson explores lust and love, past and present, accidents and the ache of plans gone wrong. Everything from Al Green to Abraham Lincoln is fair game. Dawson writes, "In Tampa, I am out for blood." And even when the world seems to have steadied itself, The Small Blades Hurt reminds us that we may have the tendency to lead, but "someone must slip and feel it."