Golden Seeds

Cromer juxtaposes carnality and grief in this volume of poetry.

In her debut collection, the author considers some of the major chords of life—love, lust, and loss. A dream lover is the focus of one rapturous poem; an abusive relationship, described as a “horrible hell,” is at the center of another. The narrator suffers the agony of having an unfaithful partner but experiences all-consuming ecstasy with someone else. She details the push-pull nature of a love-hate relationship and struggles with loneliness, longing, and temptation. Poems of desire and a ravenous sexual appetite mix with reflections on mortality. “3rd Street” is a tender remembrance of a “man I loved dearly, headed for early death.” “Annihilation” ponders the nature of time, which “shows no mercy as it hurries by / The only thing real that will never die.” The speaker mourns the death of someone close in “Believe” but trusts that “Through doors of memories, you will travel.” In another poem, faith serves to illuminate the darkness: “Discover now all that is good / Become who you are and be what you should.” The collection also includes a poem about robins, written by the author’s grandmother in 1956, which provides some insight into the author’s poetic style. Cromer’s work is surprisingly sensual. “I want to feel your flowing hair, falling on my naked skin / Opening my mouth, I feel your tongue moving in,” she writes. Later, she finds herself reduced to “A pulsation of throbbing waves, wet breakers of highest, cresting want / Your skin and scent excite me, as your tongue moves to taunt.” She is equally deft at describing the sinister side of humanity, like a partner who is “Hurtful and dangerous as black ice.” That said, Cromer is not immune to clichés, describing the way “our bodies together would melt.” Unfortunately, the cloying AABB rhyme scheme detracts from the emotional depth of her words. Likewise, the desperate fixation on possessing a lover begins to wear the reader down over the course of 100-plus pages.

A pensive, ardent, but sometimes-trying book of poetry.

- Kirkus Reviews