Mariella
There are parts, or rather, there is a part of London in which new-born babies are named after ancient gods and goddesses, and dogs after luxury cars; where homeowners carve out subterranean gullies to make way for their domestic spas; and where the staff at the local pub wince at the sight of the s
‘The Frog’ by James Fenton
A frog hunts on land by vision. He escapes Enemies mainly by seeing them. His eyes Do not move, as do ours, to follow prey, Attend suspicious events, or search For things of interest. If his body changes Its position with respect to gravity or the whole Visual world is rotated around him Then he [&h
‘Angina Pectoris’ by Graham Greene
A Fragment ‘But Doctor,’ he was saying in his sleep, And turned a petulant head upon the pillow; ‘But Doctor, any day? —a cry, a fall, Surfeit of food, a bath too hot— And once I thought to end with dignity, A trumpet crying out behind the hill, Wet feet that pass through murmu
A Short Love Story
She was bent over a basin washing her hair, standing there with the failing light just catching on her shoulders. I knew then that this would be the last time I should be close to her, and the last opportunity I would have to make her hear me. So I called softly: ‘Ada’, for I […]
Rhubarb
Rhubarb Two thousand years beyond their time Untutored in the art of scope These planes repeat an old mistake. Flora now buried under grime Once healed the first expansive ache And threw their drowning world a rope. But vast exceptions past their prime On wasted ground without r
Descartes
Descartes thought the sky was made of spirals, spangled whirlwind scrawls, a tide of starlight, oily brushstrokes crowding in the midnight, currents sweeping past the moon. His rival, a Mr Newton, won; the Lumières jeered, and though the sciences were an art those days, the pictures Descartes saw w
Sally Snake Eyes
And after it happened, I went to Sally Snake Eyes, & she sat me down, and said, Babe, it’s okay, it’s a natural thing, & she held me in her bed feeding me spoonfuls of milk. She kissed each barren follicle on my head, and I felt the hair begin to grow back. When she […]
Paper Cuts
I spent my time at school learning the art of getting by, and how to fold myself into smaller pieces. I was crafty with my hands: I folded tiny origami statues, and I folded myself into a sharp-edged sculpture, smaller and smaller until even the skin on my sides inched between my ribs to [&he
The Garden
Dug deep into my thoughts, I find a hard-wrought poem Caught between a rose-bush and a fence. I scramble at the surface, scratching Past the clumps of earth, catching Nailfuls of half-remembered things, and Striking one: a glintless grain, like Copper. I cannot mould it. Never did I wo