In the latest issue:

Boris Johnson’s First Year

Ferdinand Mount

Short Cuts: In the Bunker

Thomas Jones

Theban Power

James Romm

What can the WHO do?

James Meek

At the Type Archive

Alice Spawls

Where the Poor Lived

Alison Light

At the Movies: ‘Da 5 Bloods’

Michael Wood

Cultural Pillaging

Neal Ascherson

Jenny Offill

Adam Mars-Jones

Shakespeare v. the English

Michael Dobson

Poem: ‘Now Is the Cool of the Day’

Maureen N. McLane

Tativille

David Trotter

Consider the Hare

Katherine Rundell

How Should I Refer to You?

Amia Srinivasan

Poem: ‘Field Crickets (Gryllus campestris)’

Fiona Benson

Diary: In Mali

Rahmane Idrissa

Anti-ClimaxJohn Gurney
Close
Close

Ferenczi wrote in 1938
that acts preparatory to coitus
all served in different ways to duplicate
the narcissistic self. The syllabus
of kissing, stroking, biting and the rest
facilitates the loss of boundaries
between the different partners and divests
the woman of her terror. Now your bliss-
equipment is discarded, and our clothes
are heaped in different tumuli, my male
decision falters. Suddenly I loathe
to make the deep manoeuvre. Something fails.
Flaccid, like some ludicrous buffoon,
I stare up at the flash-flask of the moon.

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