The Lactic Acid in the Calves of Your Despair

<em>love is not to tiptoe around the crust of your soul, rather<br />it is to descend into the fire of your molten core without a harness,<br />asbestos suit, or dry ice; it is to suffer third-degree burns;<br />it is to gasp for breath; it is to watch canaries die.</em><br /><br />Political, profound, profane. These poems of defiant disobedience crash through the barriers erected to keep us contained. Writing with humour and tenderness, Ali Whitelock ta