In the latest issue:

The World Goes Bust

Adam Tooze

A nice girl like Simone

Joanna Biggs

The Arrestables

Jeremy Harding

Short Cuts: Built from Light

Daniel Soar

‘Cleanness’

Edmund Gordon

The Ghent Altarpiece

Julian Bell

You can’t prove I meant X

Clare Bucknell

At the Royal Academy: Léon Spilliaert

John-Paul Stonard

Conrad Jumps Ship

Fredric Jameson

How to set up an ICU

Lana Spawls

Poem: ‘Mayfly’

Fiona Benson

Follow the Science

James Butler

Diary: #coronasomnia

Wang Xiuying

The Mischievous BoyGavin Ewart
Close
Close

Love jumped on us before we knew his name,
twisted our arms at prep schools,
hid up our mothers’ skirts,
oh! we were bent
by knitted bosoms
and that ladylike scent!

Love was a tyrant in his belted shorts,
was good at games and comely
just as the Bible said,
behind the scrum
a hardworked angel –
no wicked words like bum.

Love came, not physical in any way;
demanding friendship only,
the simple name of friend
was all we sought –
but his refusal,
what hellish pain that brought!

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