Reviewed by: Receipt by Karen Leona Anderson Alyse Bensel (bio) Karen Leona Anderson. Receipt. Milkweed Editions, 2016. Karen Leona Anderson’s Receipt is an interrogation of the domestic that draws from cookbooks, shopping receipts, and the physical space of the home. While initially organized to reflect an orderly kept home, this poetry collection’s three marked sections catalogue and complicate the meaning of home and the implications of housekeeping. Household tasks and chores break down and reveal their sparest parts: a gathering of objects, desires, and bodies. Anderson resituates the domestic goddess myth as one not of mastery over the home but of a figure full of contradictory needs that extend beyond the realm of the kept household. The collection’s first-person speakers, who inhabit most of these poems, continue through daily existence. These figures situate their lives within consumerist impulses that demand consumption in order to achieve personal, physical, and household perfection. Rather than hover at the surface, though, these poems strive to uncover what lurks underneath, what is hidden under dust-free corners, pedicured feet, and costly dresses. The collection’s title section, “Receipt,” serves as a drawer full of past purchases, ranging from clothing to an epidural, that talk back to monetary value. In “Lacy ($292.06 modcloth.com),” a bridesmaid dress from the well-known online vintage fashion store turns seething and brutal: “I sew you to your shadow, crude / and machine made, torque your honeymoon, // bad fairy at the wedding.” The dress elicits a curse. Any sugar-coated and carefully planned matrimonial bliss is interrupted at every turn while the speaker mocks the bride: “I look / forward to your indoor tan, your SUV, / and your fertility kit.” The home turns toxic, as even macramé becomes “ozoney” and [End Page 29] dangerous to live on. With these receipts, the costs are not solely monetary—rather, cultural expectations and emotional costs accrue among these poems, seeking an outlet beyond the mute object. Interspersed among these sharp receipts are complementary poems titled after common and usually un-romanticized birds. In “Pigeon,” the speaker embodies a pigeon preparing its nest for offspring. During this act, the speaker claims, “I’m all throat: all mother: fiery / blue-green: I’ll make oppression bitter: / I’ll feed them all there is.” The mother’s sacrifice culminates in the desperate need to cling onto what persists through her offspring and fellow birds. Unlike the receipts, however, these birds have no monetary value placed on them. Rather, their worth comes from how the speaker inhabits the birds, projecting desires through them. The interspersed bird and receipt poems in this section serve as commentary on cultural assumptions and the costs associated with inhabiting a particular body. These underlying, unseen costs, as pointed out in these poems, go far beyond a price tag. The failure to live up to cultural expectations is addressed in Receipt’s opening section, which is filled with recipes and cookery books. In many of these poems, the speaker fails to live up to domestic standards; instead, she becomes consumed by the recipes, which have their own particular flavor of wildness. In “Venison,” a poem, as the epigraph notes, after The Wild Game Cookbook (1972), the deer are simultaneously artificial and untamed, “built on stripling legs or the sun strained divine / through their ears’ big pink shells—.” The poem’s neat tercets begin to break apart as the speaker turns feral: “I’m gone // from wolf to bad fawn for them, men: / trash tin at the heart of silver, picked off […].” The speaker searches for scraps, becoming animal and disorderly. But when the speaker stays within the home, even pie baking is tainted by the thought of men. In “Pie,” the speaker works through the familiar act of making the crust and building up the dessert. Crust becomes flesh as the speaker tells the addressed you: now cool, you’ll see through slicks and sheers of juice the sign I pieced from crust through red, through cover, through sugar, your name, you stitched to it. Baking as bodily nourishment and domestic task becomes an incantation, calling the wrongdoer to atone for their mistakes within the home. These moments of breakdown...