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Loathed by Huysmans

Julian Barnes

Too early or too late?

David Runciman

Short Cuts: Five Victorian Marriages

Tom Crewe

Society as a Broadband Network

William Davies

Indefinite Lent

Thomas Jones

In 1348

James Meek

The Yorkists

John Guy

At the Movies: Pasolini’s ‘Teorema’

Michael Wood

Whitehall Spookery

Neal Ascherson

Poem: ‘The Bannisters’

Paul Muldoon

Clarice Lispector

Rivka Galchen

Marius Petipa

Simon Morrison

At the Foundling Museum: ‘Portraying Pregnancy’

Joanne O’Leary

Gordon v. O’Connor

Rupert Thomson

Revism

Joe Dunthorne

Poem: ‘The Reach of the Sea’

Maureen N. McLane

Diary: Where water used to be

Rosa Lyster

Two PoemsSarah Maguire
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For Kathleen Jamie

Waist-height,
clouds of white lace
in the abandoned graveyard,

the delicate,
filigree umbels
matching

the thumbprints of lichen
embroidering the graves.
A deep current of blue

surges below –
bluebells,
moments of sky

fallen,
brief weather
fixed on wet stems,

conjuring a climate
gone from this chill April dusk,
as rain comes, and light fades.

Field Capacity

The plump loam easy with wetness –
late March, the unwrung sponge of soil
balanced by a long winter’s rain,
then opened by thaw.

I take the springy lawn in my stride,
an ash sapling tucked under each arm.
A circle described in the turf, the grassy lid
lifted, then dig –

and the packed earth comes nicely,
fresh on the spade. Fed, then watered in darkness,
the rootball unwinds, and the young tree
shivers in the wet spring air.

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