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The Word from Wuhan

Wang Xiuying

‘The Man in the Red Coat’

Luc Sante

Is it OK to have a child?

Meehan Crist

Short Cuts: Ubu Unchained

August Kleinzahler

Bury that bastard

Nicole Flattery

Surplus Sons

Clare Bucknell

Oliver Lee Jackson

Adam Shatz

The Servant Problem

Alison Light

Poem: ‘1 x 30’

Anne Carson

The Old Bailey

Francis FitzGibbon

Jiggers, Rods and Barleycorns

James Vincent

More Marple than Poirot

J. Robert Lennon

On Rachael Allen

Matthew Bevis

Like a Ball of Fire

Andrew Cockburn

The Staffordshire Hoard

Tom Shippey

Blessed Isles

Mary Wellesley

At the Movies: ‘Jojo Rabbit’ and ‘A Hidden Life’

Michael Wood

Redeeming Winnie

Heribert Adam

Diary: A Friendly Fighting Force

Nick McDonell

Two PoemsDavid Harsent
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Feverish

After Yannis Ritsos

Small squares on the move, merging, pulling apart,
building bricks unbuilding, a city of windows inside
a city of windows, everything hanging
on two right-angles, free-standing, out of whack
but somehow holding, somehow safe you decide
at the very moment they crack and start
to collapse (in utter silence) all of a heap
where three fleabitten dogs set off at an easy lope
going first through one small square
then another, and etcetera, the scent of the alien dead
ripe in their nostrils . . . and now they head
for the far end, as far back, as far down as you dare,
where a naked woman holds up
to the looking glass, still weeping, a skinless hare.

Here Is the News

After Yannis Ritsos

Red-tops, revolts, denials, discoveries, deaths,
dust and darkness and sweat

The all-night
pharmacy, a ladder climbing to meet . . .

Usury, murder, pi-dogs, whores,
prisons, a creeping sea-fret, muggings,
beggars, the blind, blind beggars, bad odour, bad laws

A guitar,
the tree, the streetlamp, the hangings

In the space
between two tall chimneys, a single star

Thank you

The key to my door is in the usual place

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