Reviewed by Athena Dixon

Claudia Rankine writes in her introduction to Khadijah Queen’s debut collection, “Hers is a poetic sensibility that denies the poems transcendence and conclusion.” Throughout Conduit, Queen weaves between the concrete and the air. Readers know there is solid ground beneath their feet, but also know there is something to reach for above their heads. It is through her poetry that she guides the audience between what they’ve known and what they’ll learn. When readers come across an image to grasp onto, the poems ballast them below the surface and beyond. However, those handles are not to be relied upon. Instead, readers are pulled to focus on the shadowy, the less than clear aspects of the collection and expand rather than remain stagnant. These poems are both opaque and sparse in their construction, and it serves the collection well.

The strength of Conduit is its use of language and form. When Khadijah Queen writes in “Return via Two Renaissances to a Distinct Unmasking,” “You love the idea of voice as an instrument, that two/Is not two, but dissonance” you have been invited into the heart of the collection. The voice of these poems is certainly an instrument, but the melody isn’t always sweet. She creates pitches that keep readers off kilter, harmonies from themes that readers may not have considered alongside tones that are freshly new. This is a skittish new jazz full of possibilities. With ample white space and succinct word choice, there is more than enough room for each poem to flower to its full potential. There is no crowding on the page to distract from the craftsmanship of the collection. It is quite clear the poet knows that space is at a premium and she uses it wisely.

In its weaker moments Conduit relies too heavily on the aforementioned shadows. Yes, the poems’ turns remain sharp and interesting, but there is a softness missing in the collection as a whole. This is not to say the poems should be diluted, but at times the reader yearns for the melodies to mesh, for the dissonance to be quieted for a moment. Lush lines such as “I have counted the thousand thirsty buds/burrowed in the black/bulk of your loosened/hair” from “Four Suggestions” or, “Poised for the stirring of small miracles” in “Suspension Tactics” are the rounded corners the collection needs more of. This addition would highlight the crispness that is the hallmark of Conduit while allowing additional entries into the poems. Without them, some readers may feel like they are on the outside looking in, knowing there is something wonderful to be had but unable to wrap their minds around it.

This is a weakness in the collection, but again the possibilities of these hard-edged poems lie within the same breath. “The Ofrendas Rojas” section of the collection is the softness sought. Here the careful construction is layered with quietness. Balanced between the starker sections “Distance as the Root of Olive Trees” and “Suspension Tactics,” “Ofrendas Rojas” is more accessible, more concrete. The opening poem “La Katrina” is what the book’s best is comprised of. It is appropriately complex while remaining open enough for a cross section of readers to enjoy. This is where readers are firmly planted on the ground while still searching what resides above.

Queen writes, “Art is a leap through time.” At the end the questions form. Where will these poems leave us? Will we be moved forward? Most certainly. By the conclusion of Conduit, readers are now with the poet between the concrete and the air. As Khadijah Queen pens, these pages are truly “wide and vibrating.”