I Am Not Trying to Hide My Hungers from the World

Deliciously ribald but tender at its core, the latest from Decolo (My Dinner with Ron Jeremy) reframes the female condition by dismantling cultural fallacies and reveling in the primitive, divine feminine. Avarice, exploitation, and entitlement serve as the catalysts for the book’s underlying theme of liberation, and its interest in vulnerability and equity. DeColo takes aim at holier-than-thou capitalists by suggesting their god is, in fact, money: “thou shalt fuck over thy neighbor if it makes a profit.” She reviles the predatory patriarchy by conjuring “the smirk of Kavanaugh/ which is the smirk of every man/ who’s been stockpiling/ alibis since he was 17.” Among her plethora of poems about motherhood, she celebrates the layered experience of postpartum surrender and sovereignty: “this is how I want to live, milk-stained, a little/ bit emptied,/ a little bit in love with the abundance of my body.” With valiant, refreshing gusto, she expresses the voracity of her libido, “the very thought/ that I am a sexual being/ and my desire is folded/ up inside of me like a wet/ envelope.” DeColo’s poems transfix with their unadulterated explorations of primal feelings. (Apr.)