Wild Court

Photo credit: Natalie J Watts He Was Saying Inconceivable Things After leaving you at drama class, I find myself each Saturday in the same street where I was stopped by a man when I was 14. He spent half the week in Covent Garden, he said, and I clocked his jacket, his charisma and because…

Persistent Measures   “Her heart is strong,” assures the ICU nurse—minutes before we deem the aid to cease,whose own strength has kept said organ pulsing so putting out those electromagneticproofs of power and life that lie supinewith mother whose dearth of motion indicates that sovereignty and self-maintenancelie elsewhere than the beat and big vesselssprouting like a…

Église Notre-Dame-de-l’Assomption Surely Isaac must have held some kind of grudge?Perhaps that’s why he does not meet the weary gazeHis greying father shoots across the vaulted nave,Where the plaster peels, cracks, and fades. I would not judgeAnother’s taste in god, in spite of such demands –I was not there in Haran. Nor am I at…

At the Coffee Shop Their hands on the small round glass tableTwo stiff-backed snakes on frosted grass –Yearning to relearn the cursive of slack and slither.How they measure the nothing of sighs, the everything of shadowsPetrified by pocket-sized silences. One hand is ringed with gold,skin softened by lotions and keys to a housethat locks safely…

The Heat and the Names In memory of the Bayham Abbey rioters, who, in 1525, protested against its closure Augustine Percyvall bites his lipand in the dark a star is born or dies.At Bayham the old geometries persistand the ghosts wander in the sunshine. John Large, John Mower, John Ramkyn, Alexander Love,they did not know…

Cuboid for Láďa In a dark little cube that passes for an office,cluttered with the dismantled hardware of surveillance,four large screens on the wall display in sequencelive snippets of tired people waiting for a tramor a blue car slotting into its patchwork segment. More pressingly arranged around your dimly glowing face,a row of computer monitors…

A Pilot Came Knocking A pilot came knocking on our doorone summer, holding a photographof our house that he took from his plane.The house was a custom-built colonialwith a painted red garage, the rest all green.From the sky you could stillmake out our playground,the yellow slide, the blue canopy,my mother’s car parked outsideat the bottom…

Four Number Cloggers Versus Me, Their Dog We were alone in the basement. He was grip-filling noggin, me up a laddercable tying festoons; when his admission camebeneath the roar of burners, the radio chog.I listened, bookended by caveatsand with Paxolin for a prop, he confidedthat he had lost count of all the attemptsto end it…

Parecoxib after Levinas Mum’s face, almost completely other now.High cheekbones she would have loved,pale skin she would have rouged.Our loved ones: my godparents holding hands,my dad – become her husband once again. Her lip twitches. Then, her shoulders roil.And now a groan. I would and will do all of this again:David’s dreaded, gentle ‘Hello Catherine’,his…

‘Start seeing everything as God but keep it a secret’ – Hafez No-one else is willing to nursemy tea-light spirituality – not you at leastand I am easily overpowered – lost and tongue-tied during harsh arguments.I want to hide my flame from you,cupping in budded hands a secret hope you won’t be able to blow…

Hand in Hand When we approached the pelican crossing,your hand unexpectedly grabbed at minefor the first time in over forty years,your palm shocking me with its snug smoothness as if it had never been away.How long remains till I reachagain for David’s hand?Will it be there? Only Child A dozen family funerals in,I’m starting to…

Taotie’s Mouth Everyone is searching,yet forgets their own guilt.We gorge ourselves on desire,yet fear we will fall into its endless cycle. In the distant East,饕餮 (Taotie) is a monster of darkness—nothing but an infinite mouth,no fur, no solid body, only hunger.It devours everything within its reach,crawling through the invisible web of sin. It rises from…

Midway […] griefwolfed my heart and all that had stitched me into this lifecame undone that day. – Susan Musgrave, ‘The Broken Hieroglyphs of the Stars’ I am returning to a book I startedwhen you were still alive.Midway through, a numb foghangs over what’s left.The first half seems innocent now,absorbed through another’s eyes.It will need…

Sir Duke (i.m. Stevie Boucher) I. The first time I met you, you welcomed melike a hearth without guard or grate.You handed me a plate – but first, whiskey glass.We spoke of Chelski, Butch; beforetalk turned to your daughter – your one, only.How I’d suffer worse fate, if I hurt her. Three-quarters cut on Take…

  From The Garden of Eternal Poets i.m. Fleur Adcock 1934-2024 Woke up with a sore head. Much drinking on Po Toi Island. After the Exhibition of Lingering FragranceI picked up the message in Kowloon.Fleur’s been diagnosed with brain cancer. Spent the morning gazing at objects from the Forbidden City.I wept for the woman in…

For the sixth event in the Wild Court Reading Series, and the first of 2026, we are delighted to welcome acclaimed poet, editor, translator and activist Stephen Watts. Stephen will be reading and in conversation with T.S. Eliot Prize-winning poet and King’s College London lecturer, Anthony Joseph. The event takes place on KCL’s Strand Campus,…

Against Which The mantel is already awake. Carved oak takes the light first,
an old brown intelligence.
A grain like worn scripture,
every vein a sentence that forgot its verb.Someone’s hand once worried this wood
the way a man fingers a rosary
when he no longer trusts God. The lions there.
Or are they dogs? —
have lost their teeth to decades…