Goddamnit, J. A. Carter-Winward’s poetry is good. It’s really fucking good. In fact, I’d go as far as to say her poetry is the very best contemporary verse that’s out there. But it’s not for everyone. Nope, it’s definitely not for everyone. And that’s partly what makes it the best out there.

Her writing is raw, honest, confessional, humorous, stripped back and stripped bare, and the unique simplicity of Carter-Winward’s words perfectly matches the themes presented.

Sex. There’s lots of sex. Not the sort of sexual musings you’ll read about in other poetry collections. No, no, no. Carter-Winward doesn’t hold back anything and she’s happy to share the most personal anecdotes, thoughts and feelings. I mean, where else will you read a poem about a bleeding vaginal cut from rough sex?

It’s not all sex though. It’s just that sex plays a dominant part in Carter-Winward’s life – alongside other themes like relationships, life lessons, non-conformity, art, Feminism, anger at a God she doesn’t believe in, and a lot more besides.

“my poetry/is like my own/personal/speculum./you can either handle/looking inside me,/or you can’t.”

Also, I’m gonna use her phrase ‘muppet-fuckers’ at the very earliest opportunity I have to do so. ( )