The Princess Saves Herself in this One

2 1/2 stars. There is promise here, yes. But there is also pretentiousness. And much of it.
(One should not name-check Anne Sexton, Sylvia Plath, and Virginia Woolf in their first boom of poetry. Be your own poet for some time first before claiming sisters in the word.)
Also, Amanda's style of naming or footnoting—I could not tell which—each poem with an italicized aside at the end was jolting for me as a reader, and made each of these feel rather like a zinger, like Amanda herself popping up to chortle “See what I did there?” A poem would resonate with me, then be abruptly bookended by this screeching halt to the flow. These extra endings made me feel as if she as the writer didn't trust me as the reader to get it, and had to give me a hint as to each poem's meaning. That violates the contract of the nebulousness of poetry; what the writer meant when she rang the bell may mean something different to every ear that hears its tone, and therein lies poetry's resounding, and compelling, beauty. There must be trust for the readers.