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Friday, 11 July 2008

Poem by James Midgley

Eyewear is pleased to welcome James Midgley (pictured) this Friday. Midgley was born in Windsor in 1986 and now alternates between Henley and Norwich. A few months ago he completed his undergraduate degree at UEA, where he will be studying for an MA in creative writing next year.

His work has recently appeared in publications such as Fuselit, Magma, The Rialto, Stand and Stride, among others. He was a runner-up in the 2007 Poetry Business competition, and this year received an Eric Gregory Award. He edits the poetry journal Mimesis. He's one of the younger British poets now worth reading and watching over the next decade (at least) to see what happens.


"Something circled the house while we slept"

Something circled the house while we slept.
Here are the prints in the snow.
I don’t think we pay enough attention to silence,
the way you cradle a bauble of whisky
snug in your palm. These winter nights
I feel that glass could be my shrunken skull, and you
swirling a lantern’s afterbirth against my skin.
Something circled the house while we slept,
I know – I already said. It bears repeating,
like the habit of these ice-locked days, the bats
filling the rafters with whispers –
I am certain, though when I pull the bulb’s cord
there is only the wind making its presence felt
and the white noise of rain. Amnesia
must sound like that. We wash ourselves at dusk.
We wash ourselves in dusk. And something
circles, stops to watch its breath fan
against the pines, the village windows
summoning blanks to its retinas –
before moving on at a quicker pace,
wearing my eyes like wedding rings.


poem by James Midgley
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