The poems in Chelsey Minnis’s Opera Fever read like a dangerous bodice-ripper, glamorous and haunted. From the covid claustrophobia in which they were written, these poems sharply maneuver from steamy observations to gravitas (and then some groaning under the fur coats../Let's be very hard on veils.. / Like a dark summer with too many funerals...). In movements that feel delightfully restless and darkly romantic, we readers are lucky to be caught in their quake.
