Like Sirens Singing, Waiting To Wreck You On The Rocks Of Their Sisters: A Review of Kat Dixon's Don't Go Fish

Sometimes you read something and you enjoy it. Sometimes you read something and fall in love and know, know, that it’s only the beginning. That’s the experience I had when reading Kat Dixon’s chapbook, Don’t Go Fish. I had read her e-book, Kississippi, and was hooked, but if that was just a taste, Don’t Go Fish was a few good bites.

It’s not easy to describe Dixon’s poetry. I’ve read my share of poetry, over a range of schools and styles, and while her work shows influences, schools of verse, etc., she writes in a way uniquely her own. And it seems so effortless, you can only imagine this woman was born with her voice intact. Her poetry isn’t confessional, per se, but each line feels personal, intimate. As if she’s whispering to you in a language she made up and gave you the only decoder ring for.

And she has such a way of drawing you in. Her first lines are like sirens singing, waiting to wreck you on the rocks of their sisters. Take these first lines for example:

“This is how we sleep in black and white.” (from “scales”)

“It is most surreal when everyone is naked under their gowns” (from “wake them up! I am lovely”)

“I will carry you by your ribcage” (from “after rain on my cartography”)

To be honest it is rare, increasingly so, that I read something that makes me ache with the desire to write. And that is what Don’t Go Fish (and Kat Dixon’s poetry on the whole) does for me. I can think of no better endorsement. I’ve been saying it for over a year, but if you haven’t read Dixon’s poetry yet, you need to do yourself a favor. Before you know it she’ll take the poetry world by storm. The few good bites provided by Don’t Go Fish will be duly rewarded as you continue to read Dixon’s poetry.