The A4 Shortlist -
December 2024

The first firework cracked against the window. A brilliant flash, fleeting and magnificent. It was the second one that caused the trouble.

We knew two Teds when I was growing up. When I was four, my Dad put me in the car and said we were going to see Ted. 

The calf inside me is soft and shy. Its head rests behind my breastbone. I feel it thinking,  Hayfresh, or, Dandelion, the flicking of its calf-dreams like a tail at my ribs.

There are two kinds of people: those that would never dream of boring a complete stranger with tales of their recent holiday, and arseholes. 

I sleep with the blind up and the window open. I like the blundering of people in the street below.

Lawrence was apparently staying in a friend’s abandoned villa when he wrote the poem (I like Lawrence, it feels friendly). The villa was near Florence (Lawrence visits Florence)