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Two Poems

Emmalea Russo

‘I cannot look at you as I cannot look directly at the sun without my hand / covering my eyes’

Burnt Sugar

Avni Doshi

‘I would be lying if I said my mother’s misery has never given me pleasure.’

Amnion

Stephanie Sy-Quia

‘In the place where I grew up there were horses, thighs moving like nudity under their fur’

The Skylight

Penelope Mortimer

‘Her body poured away inside the too-tight cotton suit and only her bloodshot feet, almost purple in the torturing sandals, had any kind of substance.’

Three Poems

Shane McCrae

‘I wanted to and then / Remembered why I want to never’

The Colour Brown

Renu Sabherwal

‘It was, she thought, like trying on made-to-measure garments that have been tailored for someone bigger, smaller, rounder, thinner than you could ever hope to be.’

Peak Spader

Ken Babstock

‘Love how unseen / we remain stood undressed in his field of vision.’

The Fascist Within

Vesna Maric

‘Yugoslavia’s ending, in bloodshed, cannot be its only legacy, the only lesson we take away from its existence.’

Three Poems

Vivek Narayanan

‘half-sunk / into ground for all those years / of negative subsisten­ce’

The Doe

Daisy Lafarge

‘Never uncomplicated, affection between species is the cup of temperance whose waters run in both directions.’

‘Doe Lea’

M. John Harrison

‘He was already suffering the attacks that would characterise the later stages of the illness, during which lights seemed to dance on the surface of everything. They were blue, lilac, pink and green, he said.’

Knickers

Colwill Brown

‘They’d practiced it ont bus into town: to mek sure Kel gorrin, they’d go past bouncer together, talking reyt loud about periods, so he wouldn’t even bother asking Kel her date of birth.’

True Story

Toyin Ojih Odutola & Yaa Gyasi

‘What if our art had not been stolen, our people not enslaved? What if we imagined a good story, a righteous and just story, and then we worked to make it true?’

In Conversation

Anthony Caleshu & Peter Gizzi

‘Words are haunted. Think of it: as long as there have been soldiers there have been poets. I have often felt that being a poet is a form of civil disobedience.’