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- Herausgeber: The Poetry Business
- Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
- Sprache: Englisch
River Wolton grew up in London and lived in Sheffield for twenty years before moving to Derbyshire. She is a freelance writer and facilitator, and was Derbyshire Poet Laureate 2007-9. This is her first fulllength collection.
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Seitenzahl: 34
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2013
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River Wolton
Acknowledgements
Many thanks to the editors of the following, in which some of these poems, or earlier versions, first appeared:ARTEMISpoetry, Chroma, Dreamcatcher, Lancaster LitFest Anthology 2005, Magma, Mslexia, The North, Rain Dog, Red Pepper, Smiths Knoll, Staple, Templar Anthologies 2006 and 2007.
'Everything I know about war' won first prize in the Red Pepper / Iraq Occupation Focus Poetry Competition 2004. 'Return' won first prize in the Chroma International Queer Writing Competition 2008. 'The Purpose of Your Visit' was published as a sequence in Magma.
'Blame' is part of a sequence commissioned by Derbyshire County Council Cultural and Community Services for Holocaust Memorial Day 2008.
Some poems were previously published in The Purpose of Your Visit (Smith/Doorstop) andYou Are Here: Travels of a Derbyshire Poet Laureate (Derbyshire County Council).
The Underground Orchestra (1998) is a documentary directed by Heddy Honigmann.
Contents
AcknowledgementsContents
You Are Here‘On the road out of the woods, we met’To the IslandSorryNote To SelfRepublic of SleepOn days like theseThrillWhat You DidSierra NevadaReconciliationGoldThe Way We’ve Grown ApartWhen She RanLondon Bomb 1975Summer ’76Driving to AldeburghArchitectureFedoraSeymour BathsDouble PneumoniaSheffield – St PancrasThe Underground OrchestraAshesTrue AgesLeapAugustMarin CountyMisanthrophileTo TeethHeroesAt The GymIt’s everything you want from the end of FinalsDying Well, An ExperimentBlameEverything I know about warWitnessSabir
The Purpose of your Visit
Old City
Etiquette
Statistics
The Visit
Departures 4.30 a.m.
‘You didn’t mean to let fear in’The RoadWell DressingGuiltLike Driving in FogSnow Mind3.44 a.m.Return
Biography
You Are Here
The sign points firmly south. Hathersage B6001.
It's wrong. That is the Bakewell road. We glare,
imagine Easter visitors, a Scottish family en route to Derby
frowning, with a quarry wagon at their back,
the primary school about to spill across the lane like sheep.
Should we leave a note
pinned high as we can reach?
Warning. You are not where you seem.
Today we're here. I feel it in the way
we amble through the house,
the path the sun makes on the kitchen floor,
hours like a slowly rolling ball.
I'm down to leeks chopped fine, half-hearted DIY;
your arms slip round me as I wash the pots.
Despite my well-worn maps
we're here, wherever that may be
and here is moving with us as we go.
'On the road out of the woods, we met.'
On the road out of the woods, we met.
She wore a cashmere coat,
a silk-lined hunting hat.
Once home she sat in the best chair
but soon was everywhere -
door handles, envelopes.
She took control of faces.
I got to know her well.
She has twelve kinds of scimitar,
long red gloves,
a shelf of glittering prizes.
Sometimes I find her in my skin,
my hand stuck on a set of cards
with no match
and no letting up.
When we're alone I pace,
or simply stand
because she grasps my feet
until the blood is stopped
and anything
that could have happened next
is augered
with her pointed silver teeth.
To The Island
Fingers prod each syllable
as Janet and John row bravely
from shore.
My shoes are stowed
in a brown bag
by the door.
There's been a drill.
The upper school has clattered
down the fire escape.
They're lined up
on the smooth stretch
of forbidden lawn.
I'm stuck on Is-land.
All she says is No and
Try once more.
Sorry
When the first Sorry
took shape
and left her mouth,
it hardly made a mark.
She hadn't put much into it.
Say Please. Please.
Say Sorry. Sorry.
The second Sorry was larger.
She'd seen how Sorry worked.
It was barely prompted:
Look what you've done.
She cut a sliver of herself
to offer with the word
and buy her peace.
But Sorry whittled her away
