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The virtuosity and high spirits of Sophie Hannah's poems are unusual at any time of day. She handles rhymed metrical forms with wily insouciance and passes the 'memorability test' with flying colours. A surrealising impulse unsettles even the most tidy of her stanzas with a shrewd imaginative wantonness. Her experiments with subject-matter produce something more satisfying than 'social verse'. An urban person who prefers shopping, eating and romance to hopping over cowpats on a country walk, she writes with generous rather than reductive wit.
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SOPHIE HANNAH
To my parents with love
Some of these poems have previously appeared in The Arcadian, As Girls Could Boast, Envoi, The Forward Book of Poetry 1994, The Frogmore Papers, Headlock, Lancaster Litfest Anthology 1993, The North, Pen & Keyboard, PN Review, Poetry London Newsletter, Poetry Nottingham, Poetry Review, The Rialto, Scratch, Slow Dancer, The Spectator, Spectrum, Staple, Tandem, Terrible Work, The Times Saturday Review, TOPS, Vision On ’92; and also in EarlyBirdBlues (Smith/Doorstop, 1993), Second Helping of Your Heart (Frogmore Press, 1994), and New Poetries (Carcanet, 1994).
Title Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Soft Companion
Summary of a Western
Symptoms
The Affair
Six Sonnets
Before Sherratt & Hughes Became Waterstone’s
Two-Headed Dog Street
The Gift
Mad Queen Hospital for Electrifying the Heart
Minding his Boots
Something Coming
A Day Too Late
Trainers All Turn Grey
Another Filling
Introducing Vanity
Second Helping of your Heart
For the Following Reasons
Two Rondels
Call Yourself a Poet
Amusing Myself
Differences
The Answer
No Competition
Friends Again
The Mystery of the Missing
Miracles Start like This
Nostalgia
Two Love Poems
Early Bird Blues
Your Street Again
Three Short Poems
The Trouble with Keeping in Touch
Ghazal
Superstitions
The Usherette
Love Me Slender
Morning Has Broken
Skipping Rhyme for Graduates
Mountains out of Small Hills
Reconstruction
The Hero and the Girl Next Door
An Aerial View
Absence Makes the Heart Grow Henry
The Only Point is Decimal
A Really Tacky Tourist Beach
The Fairy Never Came to Get my Teeth
Fish Tony’s Chips
Bafield Load
The Keyboard and the Mouse
The Safest Place
Triskaidekaphobia
When Will You Come and Identify my Body?
Copyright
for Lawrence Gough
He sat in the under-heated flat, alone,
Usefully passing time (he thought by choice),
Not missing anything, until the phone
Brought him the soft companion of your voice,
And then he looked around himself and saw
The scraps of clothing on the floor, in shreds,
And felt his keys hang heavy in the door.
He thought of powdered milk and single beds.
Unsure of him, you said, ‘It’s only me,’
Meaning not quite enough, but you were right:
Yours was the only face he hoped to see
And only you remembered him tonight.