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

DaytripAnne Rouse
Close
Close

We’d left the cameras in the Hertz
But made St P.’s for the tourist Passion.
I knew one of the trio: permapressed, a little weary
This is what he did on his vacations.
A few bearded heads bled from the corbels.
We walked by the pleated steps of a temple
In whose maw someone was being tried with flame.

We took in the long galleria before lunch.
Sloan made some remark about art being vox populi.
I sent him back to the Excelsior with a flea in his ear.
The roofs stretched out, pale in the heat and peaceable.
Your shoulder touched mine. I could tell you were moved.
The wine and the drowse of pigeons dismissed
Any rancour between us. Rested we’d be as good as gold.

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