“a rust-belt affection for the way things flew apart”: A Review of Dani Couture’s Poetry Collection YAW

Casey the Canadian Lesbrarian

daniIt only seems fitting that my review of this sparse, short book follows in the same tradition, so I don’t think I’ll be writing much about Toronto-based Dani Couture’s 57-page collection of poetry YAW.  But don’t take that to mean I didn’t get a lot out of it.  I think this is a book of poems that I will come back to, and reap more from Couture’s precise, muscular lines again and again.

First of all, do I know what the title means?  No, I don’t.  Does it matter? I don’t think so.  I mean, I googled it (“a twisting or oscillation of a moving ship or aircraft around a vertical axis”), but that didn’t really affect the way I felt about the poems.  If anyone knows anything more about this word and its possible larger significance I’d be interested, but frankly I’m okay leaving it as a mystery for now.

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