In the latest issue:

Democracy? No thanks

Eric Foner

The Bournemouth Set

Andrew O’Hagan

Short Cuts: How to Block Spike

Rupert Beale

Poem: ‘Lark’

Anne Carson

Mussolini’s Unrealism

Edward Luttwak

Characteristically Spenderish

Seamus Perry

Waiting for Valéry

Michael Wood

Bilingualism

Michael Hofmann

The Case for a Supreme Court

Stephen Sedley

A Great Wall to Batter Down

Adom Getachew

At Las Pozas: Edward James’s Sculpture Garden

Mike Jay

He’s Humbert, I’m Dolores

Emily Witt

Archigram’s Ghost

Jonathan Meades

‘Love at Last Sight’

Chloë Daniel

Instapoetry

Clare Bucknell

Scotland’s Dreaming

Rory Scothorne

Diary: In Guy Vaes’s Footsteps

Iain Sinclair

Gun SaluteMarion Harris
Close
Close

What could we do,
you coming all the way
down to London
(day return) and me

learning fast
for exams? Looking up
from atomic spectra,
I said ‘A walk,’

but I honestly
never planned
on bellowing men,
or a band,

or horse-drawn
guns. Twenty-one
near seismic
bangs, then

my desk
and your train. Rest
for the horses, pints
for that military sweat.

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