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Eleanor Rees
Eleanor Rees is the author of four collections of poetry. Her most recent is The Well at Winter Solstice (Salt, 2019) and her fifth collection Tam Lin of the Winter Park, in which these poems will appear, is forthcoming from Guillemot Press in May, 2022. Eleanor is senior lecturer in creative writing at Liverpool Hope University and lives in Liverpool.

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Three Poems

Poetry

April 2022

Eleanor Rees

Poetry

April 2022

ESCAPE AT RED ROCKS   I am the colour of the outside, a stillness moving like a winter tide, a new shoreline in formation,...

poetry

September 2012

Mainline Rail

Eleanor Rees

poetry

September 2012

Back-to-backs, some of the last, and always just below the view   a sunken tide of regular sound west...

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, looking straight into the gold flecked eyes, ‘I can’t see another way’ The round eyes blink brightly back I turn on the hot tap above the small white bath, hygienic and functional like everything else in here There’s a red sign above the taps, with a warning about the scorching water Steam rises instantly from the bath, and I move to the toilet to wait I wonder, briefly, if I can hide her in my little room down the corridor But no, she’d be found straight away: they mop the rooms every day Besides, there would be nowhere to hide: bare lino under the single bed, and then there’s just the little lockable set of drawers, pine-veneer desk, plastic chair The walls are painted magnolia: there’s not even wallpaper to hide behind And even if I could squeeze her into one of the drawers, she’d probably suffocate I know they do their best to make it homely in here, but it’s nowhere near Bile rises in my throat when I think of the thick carpets and rugs I left behind Laying as still as I could on the luxury pile, not daring to move, hoping this would make him stop Sometimes it worked, but usually he won: got me moving again, a kick in the soft belly fat, a boiling spoon to the flabby upper arm   I inhale the steam deeply now, looking down at the exceptional pigeon cradled in my palms She’s a stunner, a certain win I feel the quality of her down against my skin, she is oiled all over I gently test the fineness of the bones, the strength of the frame, the vibrating breast muscles, the deep throat Perfect balance She was always my favourite and he knew it He said it wasn’t right to have preferences: that the birds would pick up on it and stop coming home Back then, he was still teaching me: he’d take me to all the shows, even the big one with the starry midnight carpet, crimson drapes and dazzling stage My crushed velvet dress

Contributor

August 2014

Eleanor Rees

Contributor

August 2014

Eleanor Rees is the author of four collections of poetry. Her most recent is The Well at Winter Solstice...

Crossing Over

poetry

September 2012

Eleanor Rees

poetry

September 2012

As he sails the coracle of willow and skins his bird eyes mirror the moon behind cloud. Spring tide drags west but he paddles...

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fiction

February 2013

The Currency of Paper

Alex Kovacs

fiction

February 2013

‘Labour is external to the worker, i.e. it does not belong to his essential being; that in his work,...

feature

Issue No. 8

The White Review No. 8 Editorial

The Editors

feature

Issue No. 8

The manifesto of art collective Bruce High Quality foundation, the subject of an essay by Legacy Russell in this...

Art

Issue No. 2

Sri Lankan Contemporary Art

Josephine Breese

Art

Issue No. 2

Sri Lanka has developed a thriving, vital contemporary art scene over the past twenty years. New artists are emerging...

 

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