Welcome to the home page of my website, where you can find out about my published, and soon to be published, books…. and about other projects and collaborations - working across different art forms with theatre directors, actors, visual artists, musicians, sound and lighting designers…..


They’re phantoms, nameless, but

they make their presence felt.

The one who sings Summertime 

in the bathroom leaves taps running,

vanilla-scent lingering in the steam.

My earrings, tights, lipsticks vanish;

wine stains bloom on carpets.

5 a.m., there’s  one on the doorstep, 

no key - sits with head in hands,

nauseous; vodka, I guess, flashbacks

to some boy’s tongue in her mouth;

feet blistered, handbag spitting sequins. 

She’s dark, like me, but the fair ones

are like the dads they might have had -

the politics student from Leicester or

that Swedish physiotherapist on Kos.

Sometimes snatches of their laughter

seep downstairs - I imagine them 

sprawled on the youngest one’s bed,

painting each others’ nails purple -

but often they squabble, their voices

raw and shrill as hungry crows.

When we all bleed on the same day,

the house shudders from banged doors.

In my mirror the singing one stands

behind me, combs her long wet hair -

meets my eyes for a few seconds,

then stares straight through me.

Catherine Smith 

Otherwhere  Smith Doorstop, 2012

Her scary, unsettling voice seems unexpected in poetry. It cuts her free of the crowd.’ Rachel Campbell-Johnson, The Times.

A fierce talent.’ Ian McMillan