In the early 90s, a workshop teacher of mine, the generous Guy Biederman, had song the praises of Sandra Cisneros. I believe he knew her (although I could be mistaken about that - it was some time ago). Ever since then, I have had the knowledge that she was talented, but I had not read her. I hadn't even read The House on Mango Street. But I had Loose Woman on my shelf, having come by it somehow along the way, and I read it as today's title. It was interesting how this book reminded me of Corazón by Yesika Salgado and a little bit of Addonizio's Now We're Getting Somewhere. But it was the prosier pieces in Cisnero's book that I appreciated the most. The shorter-lined poems didn't do as much for me, although she certainly can play with images.