Sarah Dixon writes so knowingly and with unerring lightness of touch. She knows about breaking and aching and treads nimbly between mythic, modern, and the sweet specificity of the mundane. She knows too of resilience and fragility and conjures with honesty and humour the strangeness and intensity of loss, and the wonder of finding. Best of all is when she touches upon longing, and so lightly, but, oh my, has it been touched – as we have, unforgettably.
These are beautifully crafted poems which will speak to everyone. Telling the story of the loss of love – and a return to life – “The Sky is Cracked” is as beautiful as it is sad, as delicate as it is plainspoken. Sarah Dixon’s poetry holds the reader close, and then offers up its rich layers of meaning. Like good whisky, I could taste this short collection long after I’d read it – and I wanted more.
This is poetry that “shimmies along the dado rail” to speak memorably of “the grumble of gravel under trainers.” Rich in imagery and with a wealth of truths, we’d be poorer without these poems.