“Much of Tremble works out for lyric--for shorter, more obviously musical, utterance--the ‘extraordinary regeneration’ Just Whistlehad promised. Brief manifestos throughout Tremble announce her final, durable, freedom from mourning, and from writing poems of mourning: ‘I felt less responsible for one man's death . . . I longed to torch my old belongings and belch a little flame of satisfaction . . . I could almost forget what happened many swift years ago in Arkansas.’ The poet of armpits, breastbones, and ‘clitoral light’ committed herself to celebrate (often specifically female) sexual feeling: Tremble shows what that promise implies for the tightly stopped spondees and noun-phrase arrays out of which Wright makes lineated poems.”

—Stephanie Burt 

Darren Angle