Emma Lee
Reviews
The Glass Harmonica by Claire Crowther
(Flarestack, 41 Buckley’s Green Alvechurch, Birmingham B48 7NG, [email protected], £3, ISBN 1900397625, A5, 32pp, stapled)
In the title poem where "she rests, dying", "...Our boiled potatoes gleam, exquisite, bold,/ through champagne flutes to toast her birthday.// The crystal sings her down. She strokes the door/ open, thin as a lip, bare toes like drops// of water on red kitchen tiles./ Breath bird scratching at a border." "Uphill" starts, "Plasticised fabric over a motorbike,/ still water in a granite bowl/ in a calmly horizontal driveway/ all hang with shine..." continues making its environmental point, "...We played shine. Swapped glazed posters/ for wheelie bins, lilies for lustres of tarmac.//... cars like water droplets splashed/ on the hot bypass...// I think of us/ next to these images.../ blackening in the light...". If only all poems-with-a-message would learn from Claire Crowther’s style. The attention to detail give these poems the feeling of a sheer fabric, but it’s the very fine weft that gives them their strength.
(Flarestack, 41 Buckley’s Green Alvechurch, Birmingham B48 7NG, [email protected], £3, ISBN 1900397625, A5, 32pp, stapled)
In the title poem where "she rests, dying", "...Our boiled potatoes gleam, exquisite, bold,/ through champagne flutes to toast her birthday.// The crystal sings her down. She strokes the door/ open, thin as a lip, bare toes like drops// of water on red kitchen tiles./ Breath bird scratching at a border." "Uphill" starts, "Plasticised fabric over a motorbike,/ still water in a granite bowl/ in a calmly horizontal driveway/ all hang with shine..." continues making its environmental point, "...We played shine. Swapped glazed posters/ for wheelie bins, lilies for lustres of tarmac.//... cars like water droplets splashed/ on the hot bypass...// I think of us/ next to these images.../ blackening in the light...". If only all poems-with-a-message would learn from Claire Crowther’s style. The attention to detail give these poems the feeling of a sheer fabric, but it’s the very fine weft that gives them their strength.
Page(s) 7
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