I get a long-distance call from a girl who says she knows me.


Years on, I’m in a room that,

in the abstract, is familiar

with its combination of walls

& furniture.


It’s late summer & the sun’s low

yellowing the moth-worn



The voice I know somewhere & a face starts to form,

& part of a name.



The stars are up & my

lens slips from Saturn’s



fumbles about her

kitchen window. I take


notes, co-ordinates

as her shadow practices

a monologue or rattles dishes.


I’m curious but

disconnected –            I

look     but




3 thoughts on “longview

  1. Oh, I thought I’d commented on this, the cold distance of Saturn in II, the breathless fumble of the lens in its fake intimacy. Love I & II both!

  2. I like the fragile in the lace curtains aligned with the distance— and the inaccessible, of Saturn and the spying, if that’s what you’re doing?

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