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.
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