OXFORD REVIEW 
of BOOKS

ALICE WEATHERLEY - I was stuck to garden stones when you read to me

FIZZA ABBAS - As a child I tasted chalk walls, a mineral sweetness I could not name.

NICOLA HEALEY - Because I could not find a place, I stopped fighting

RALUCA DAVID - One wall listens, one window does not listen

ROWAN TATE - The sun is in my mouth, God ripens in me

TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA - ‘I am a little too misty’ Either meaning foggy, or meaning nothing at all, she was from a part of Europe that travel agents would pretend exists...

J.R. SOLONCHE - We talked of what years do to us. It was a fairly average day. We made love with old, familiar lust...

TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA - Men more content to change in the reflection / Of a lake, and break in dry heat underneath…

LEO KANG - ‘But mizzle, bitten thing…’

CASPIAN FLINT - ‘Through slatted window rings / the mountain embalmed a bell…’

You had to be there.

The Oxford Review of Books presents seven assorted poems from a group of talented writers.

The audience’s conduit is not connecting...

JULIAN HALL - 'As I walked to Fitness First / I was Blessed'

MICHAEL CONLEY - 'We used to have barbecues all the time'

ANGELA CHAIDEZ VINCENT - 'I waited / so long. / But just as it is strange to think of Romans'

DONNA STONECIPHER - Nostalgia began as an illness with a prescribed cure: opium, leeches, a view of the sufferer’s home Alps.

MARY JEAN CHAN - 'At thirteen, school meant mandatory / medical kits: two face masks, a small ...'

LEO BOIX - In 1879 Reverend Dalton took the Princes on board the HMS Bacchante

MARY JEAN CHAN - post-colony is a state of mind