“I remember the morning you walked back from the sea, dirty trousers rolled, your feet pale as prisoners, poems and broken shells falling through a hole in your pocket. You stood for a moment and smiled at the gulls and… — Catherine Bateson Copy Share Image
“I want words which are scalpel sharp and shiny; poems keen enough to gut a fish and clean it. Poems labelled not for domestic… — Catherine Bateson Copy Share Image
“Mum's mobile was the most immoblie cell phone in the world. It often lived on the top of the bookshelf closest to the front… — Catherine Bateson Copy Share Image
“I remember the morning you walked back from the sea, dirty trousers rolled, your feet pale as prisoners, poems and broken shells falling through… — Catherine Bateson Copy Share Image
“You feel so overwritten you're like a palimpsest; the original girl almost lost under years of scrawling yet you nurture an illusion of beauty,… — Catherine Bateson Copy Share Image
