R and me take up for “time being”. We’re
a strange pair, him gawky and bright
as a dewed hedgehog, I arrive everywhere
in clinging primaries and haze of Amarige.
All this talking talking. His wire glasses
multiply the kind sparks of his eyes,
he notes my glitter polish, says he wears
his burdens steelily, changes subject.
I wake alone and early, flushed
at his Scots lilt on pine-marten and capercallie.
He’s writing animal poems, A-Z,
and somewhere in the highlands
an old man cuts pop-ups of aardvarks, bats
and chimpanzees. They’ve stalled at H. Why can’t
R see that I’m the next animal the slumped dog
of his heart should stand and bark for?
(R x is the first of a sequence of love poems intended for a chapbook this year)
Hannah Lowe was born in Ilford, Essex in 1976. She has lived in Brighton and Santa Cruz, California. She studied American Literature at the University of Sussex and has a Masters degree in Refugee Studies. She worked for many years as an English teacher and is now studying for a PhD in Creative Writing. Chick, her debut collection, will be published by Bloodaxe in 2013.