in the huge, rambling house, sullied, his breakfast
ruined, and the rare Turkish rug, and a broken
French window letting a fresh rain soak
the curtains. It was just too bad.
She would have been pretty without the bloody dent
in her skull, and a little less make-up.
The plummy lipstick had spread halfway across her face
like jam smeared on without a mirror and her roots
were black and lank as river vegetation floating
its tendrils over the dark water. Why couldn’t
the bloody river have taken her? Much more
sensible than dragging her here.
He knew he’d never seen her before, although
he knew her type and he’d met plenty like her,
cheap as holiday souvenirs faded by the sun
in some dusty shop window, retaining only patches
of their original colour. Her nails were disgraceful:
a really toxic shade of scarlet where they hadn’t been bitten
and chipped and the dirt, dear God, like she’d
been digging with her bare hands in the earth.
Spring in the Valley of the Racehorse
In her well-tended garden,
March is always a revelation, a generous
parcelling-out of leaf
and feather, the branches
sieving dark green onto pale
and the small birds fluent.
An untried colt, he ran green,
tilting awkwardly at the windmills
of spring that swung the shadows
and the sun around
in dizzying beats
upon the firm ground.
Still, he ran out an easy winner,
unbothered by the coppery
heat of the afternoon.
She shines the window-glass;
her cloth, a starter’s
old-fashioned flag. The breeze
is brisk, her pace easy.
She is well within herself.
The fine weather holds.
Any cloudbursts will be light
and temporary.
He tenses against the hot
metal of the starting-gate
eyeballing the wide swatch
of flat green that vanishes
sweetly into the distance.
He’s learned to ignore
the impure source of noise,
the sharp, irregular
flashes of the sun
on glass discs, to keep
his mind within
the miraging posts of white,
evenly spaced along the track.
He blows a little, focused
as the noonday sun
that would blind a person
were they to look at it too long
and too hard.
Contents List
11 What I Wanted
12 What I Remember
13 The Little Sister
14 Not James Dean
15 The Fortune Teller
16 The Living Library
17 The Case of the Inconvenient Corpse
19 Nobody Home
21 Sheep
22 Vivien and Scarlett
23 Norma Shearer
24 Sea Birds
25 Glass House
26 Hall of Mirrors
27 Eyes Wide Shut
28 The Diner
30 You Can’t Take My World from Me
31 When a Lovely Flame Dies
32 At the Captain’s Table
34 Vessel
35 The Imaginary Death of Star
37 Archive
38 Joan Fontaine and Rebecca
40 Olivia de Havilland
42 Brigadoon
43 Louise Brooks
44 Dreams of Lost Summers and Found Lines
47 Leaving
48 Reverie
50 No Reason
52 Cemetery in Snow
53 Happy Birthday
55 Solo
57 The Afternoon Shift Are Leaving the Port Talbot Steelworks
58 Momentum
59 Ruffian
61 Spring in the Valley of the Racehorse
63 Near Clearlake, Idaho
64 five Seconds
66 The Music Men
68 Not Fade Away
70 The Unicorn Seat
71 Just One Request
72 Calling Card
77 Acknowledgements
Related Reviews
'This vivid and haunting collection... An extraordinary vision of how most of us live in that gap between fantasy and the real, always seeking, and failing, to control our paths... here is a poet working at the height of her powers, with a delicacy of touch, careful irony, and a deep understanding of how fantasy works that set her apart as a chronicler of pop culture, illusion and the persistence of the real.' – John Burnside & Tim Liardet, PBS Bulletin, on Not in This World