Early praise for Mouthy:
Emily Rose writes poetry that completely rejects the silly concept of gravity – part comet, part mermaid bathtub thrash & heat orbit. Bless this gutsy bitch willing to examine and map the glittering wilderness that is womanhood, testifying on behalf of all its complicated glory and “bountiful meat.” Mouthy is fanged with the kind of honesty that will chew a hole right through you.
Reading through the poems in Mouthy by Emily Rose Kahn-Sheahan for the first time was a bit like unwrapping a gift that I hadn’t realized I’d been coveting for years: an affirmation that it’s okay to be a sex-positive, feminist adult and still occasionally feel completely baffled by sexuality and intimacy. In this collection, desire is shown in all its complicated heat: as tender as it is kinky, as holy as it is troublesome. I am grateful for the barefaced duality within these poems as they wax and wane between self-love and insecurity, bawdiness and shame, exuberance and seclusion. Emily challenges us all to see our bodies and selves in a fair and worthy light: “How dare I be this body / and forget how beautiful it ripples, / the art in bountiful meat, milk skin.”
Beware poems that warn you of their teeth; they will leave marks, and not say sorry. Mouthy is unapologetically sharp, shamelessly noisy, and exuberant in its declaration of the things about which we (women) are told never to speak. –Marty McConnell
These stanzas smolder, incite and stagger the reader like a backhand. Emily Rose is a relentless archivist of delusion and crave, adept at both blinding truths and the lyric so lustful it trembles the belly. This book is both shield and weapon. This writer is the one you didn’t know you needed.