I do not read as much poetry as I should. Sometimes I feel inept at judging its quality. In critique groups, I am concerned about the kind of feedback I give poets because I think their writing comes from a different realm of creativity than mine. Reading clunky poems can feel like running a 3-legged race with a very uncoordinated person, but reading a beautiful poem can be like teaching my brain to dance ballet. In Mrs. Dumpty, Chana Bloch's slim book of poetry, she reveals herself with elegance. Readers have the pleasure of watching her fall in slow motion. Her vulnerability is angelically orchestrated in this melancholy collection of poems.