Kyra
Kyra
“City we shared without knowing…”
Philip Larkin, ‘Poem about Oxford’Was she the bored blonde in G&Ds that night, staring blankly under bright lights as I rounded on Little Clarendon Street once more, Ollie insouciant against the wall, enveloped in cigarette smoke and regret? Was she the pale black-haired girl behind the Zodiac’s bar with mistrustful shadowed eyes? In that room, concentration honed to the board trumpeting my name, the silver clips that held my hair, the work I knew would merit a first. She, too, sat at the front. I notice Sarah Snelgrove’s ice-blue eyes, but no one tied with ivory thread.
A poet I’ve always meant to read. She hands me two children, two roses.
Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose leaves
The way I feel today - 10 July 2004
Just seventeen - 17 March 2004
Roads to freedom - 25 February 2004
Confessions of a failed self-harmer - 25 February 2004
Manchester, united - 25 February 2004