In the latest issue:

In Quarantine

Erin Maglaque

Après Brexit

Ferdinand Mount

Short Cuts: Springtime for Donald

David Bromwich

Meetings with their Gods

Claire Hall

‘Generation Left’

William Davies

At the North Miami Museum: Alice Paalen Rahon

Mary Ann Caws

Buchan’s Banter

Christopher Tayler

‘American Dirt’

Christian Lorentzen

Fiction and the Age of Lies

Colin Burrow

In Lahore

Tariq Ali

GOD HATES YOUR FEELINGS

James Lasdun

Rereading Bowen

Tessa Hadley

At the Corner House

Rosemary Hill

William Gibson

Thomas Jones

Poem: ‘Murph & Me’

August Kleinzahler

The Stud File

Kevin Brazil

John Boorman’s Quiet Ending

David Thomson

In Shanghai: The West Bund Museum

John-Paul Stonard

Diary: The Deborah Orr I Knew

Jenny Turner

Terminal ModerneAnge Mlinko
Close
Close
Vol. 35 No. 14 · 18 July 2013
Poem

Terminal Moderne

Ange Mlinko

193 words

Mother Reilly’s Daughter! Trompe l’oeil Ale! Aphasic Skywalk!
Night at the hub pub, microbrews and boutique pinots –
In its throes,
Does one ever hear the Mädchen cry from the woods at the edge of the
           tarmac?

The artwork is meant to mute us, is it?
Large-scale cibachromes, mobiles, canvases –
A young couple circulates here indefinitely, gizmo in limp fingers,
          mentally en vacances.

So what terminal is this?
Groping the railing on the mezzanine, where fouetté is inscribed in the
          light fixtures, tutu in the mesh scaffolds, an old man almost
          slips.
Does it invite conversation?
I don’t know; it’s conversation for other people; as when Milton depicts
          the tête-à-tête between Adam and the angel, but reproduces
          not a word.

Passengers, please proceed to Gate P.
I’d never supposed the architect’s true Lucifer is gravity.
He’s seen what it does to plaster rosettes, shingles, women’s flesh.
Shall we say his efforts here are not in vain?
Melancholy can’t find depth in even a carpet pile –
As when morning mist weeps across a fuselage and, oh, Mother
          Reilly’s Daughter,
Untingling aileron!

Send Letters To:

The Editor
London Review of Books,
28 Little Russell Street
London, WC1A 2HN

letters@lrb.co.uk

Please include name, address, and a telephone number.

Read anywhere with the London Review of Books app, available now from the App Store for Apple devices, Google Play for Android devices and Amazon for your Kindle Fire.

Read More

Sign up to our newsletter

For highlights from the latest issue, our archive and the blog, as well as news, events and exclusive promotions.

Newsletter Preferences