(Reviewed by JD Jung)
I usually don’t read or appreciate this genre, but this collection completely disarmed me. From the opening pages, the poetry and poetic prose captivated me, pulling me into voices and lives that linger long after the final poem.
Poet Thea Matthews writes with a rare lyrical precision, inhabiting multiple identities—male and female, hopeful and broken—with remarkable empathy. Drawing on her background in social and behavioral science, she crafts monologues that are observant and unsentimental, yet deeply heartfelt and often heartbreaking. Though written from a seemingly neutral stance, each piece carries an emotional weight that feels intensely personal.
The imagery is vivid and immersive, grounded in recognizable places and moments mostly from this decade. The poems move through cities and communities across the United States—Colma, California; the suburbs of Las Vegas; New York City; and San Francisco’s Tenderloin—each setting rendered with specificity and atmosphere. It’s difficult to single out a favorite, as each piece feels spellbinding in its own way.
The most striking are the portraits of a child growing up in poverty, objectively observing her surroundings; a father newly out of prison, still in love with the mother of his children and on the brink of committing another crime inside a church in Hancock County, Georgia; a young woman navigating an unplanned pregnancy that ends in miscarriage; and the haunting reflection on the Charleston, South Carolina church shooting. These narratives embody resilience, pain, faith, parental abuse, and addiction without melodrama, allowing the humanity of each voice to speak for itself.
Grime is a powerful, compassionate collection that challenges assumptions about poetry and what it can do. Even for readers who claim they “don’t care for poetry,” Grime is a must-read—one that proves how deeply poetry can illuminate the quiet and catastrophic moments of ordinary lives.