Dialogue
It’s easy enough to get in-between things, easy enough to see you sway in the library corridor between your shadow and the rainy window I sway in the library corridor between my shadow and the rainy window, when it comes up in a quiet moment, the current hitting the backs of my knees and you’re
In Conversation with Sarah Mardini
“The boat started taking in water and the engine turned off. The boat was just a little dinghy. I jumped in the water, and my sister joined me; we had to use all the swimming resources that we had. It was a very rough sea that day. But I’m a long-distance swimmer, and I knew I could […]
Revenge of the Muse
Near the end of the Tate Modern’s Dora Maar retrospective, the largest so far in the UK, there is a recording of a conversation between the eighty-seven-year-old Dora Maar and Francis Morris, now head of the Tate Modern. In the conversation, originally recorded for the Tate’s 1995 Picasso retros
Quicklime
They froze Frieda in quicklime; They did it in front of a mirror, always inspired by the glass screen. Screams, screams! Everybody leans in for a peek. Quicklime, and her hands move fast; motion freezes faster with skin-fizzing bubbles. Actions pass, and her shape turns calcite-white and solid still
Blight
A tangle of growing things filled your belly: made your shrinking stomach bulge. Strings turned taut; drawn across each bend and curve now struck bare. Arid, audible – a space between each branch yawning. Fissure in the breeze. Chewed or gnawed: your fraying edges expanded the light between yo
A Feast for the Eyes
Still Life with Fruit, Jacob van Walscapelle, c. 1675 1. Against a tastefully dark background, colours look richer. The edge of a crystal wine glass stands out more sharply, a pomegranate seems redder, the bloom on the midnight-purple skin of a grape looks softer. This is what food is in
On Manish Shah
On the same day that Harvey Weinstein’s lawyers opened their defence at his heavily-covered rape trial in Manhattan, another pivotal sexual assault case drew to a close across the Atlantic: Manish Shah was sentenced to life in prison, in Court One at the Old Bailey. The jurors in both New York and
First Home
The front door was pale and blotchy But its fist clenched my key, unpeeling the hall. It squatted cold and stared, clutching a leg Of ham whose skin flaked fat-yellow on the floor. I found some plums in the fruit-bowl. Their flesh sagged. Their purple sank. They swallowed when I touched them. Then y
