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Eleanor Rees
Eleanor Rees is the author of four collections of poetry. Her most recent is The Well at Winter Solstice (Salt, 2019) and her fifth collection Tam Lin of the Winter Park, in which these poems will appear, is forthcoming from Guillemot Press in May, 2022. Eleanor is senior lecturer in creative writing at Liverpool Hope University and lives in Liverpool.

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Three Poems

Poetry

April 2022

Eleanor Rees

Poetry

April 2022

ESCAPE AT RED ROCKS   I am the colour of the outside, a stillness moving like a winter tide, a new shoreline in formation,...

poetry

September 2012

Mainline Rail

Eleanor Rees

poetry

September 2012

Back-to-backs, some of the last, and always just below the view   a sunken tide of regular sound west...

Ten minutes before the floodwaters arrived, Pak Prawiro died Who knows to where his soul sped off Now only his body remained by his cramped house Stretched out as though he were just sleeping Not a single soul appeared saddened by his death You have to understand, no one knew Pak Prawiro’s origins and background   Five minutes before the floodwaters arrived, a neighbour found Pak Prawiro sprawled on the ground in the cassava patch next to his house ‘Pak Prawiro fainted,’ he said to himself, before enlisting the help of another neighbor in carrying Pak Prawiro into his house ‘He’s dead,’ said yet another neighbour ‘Just check his pulse’   Sure enough, he had no pulse, his heart had stopped pumping, and his body had grown cold They laid Pak Prawiro down on the couch and covered him with a sheet, as if he were napping Someone tied a white cloth around his head so his mouth wouldn’t hang open Another closed his eyes   One minute before the floodwaters arrived, someone shouted ‘Look, the river has reached the top of the embankment!’   ‘Relax,’ another answered, ‘It never floods here The farthest it’s come is up to the road’   No one was thinking it might flood The housing complex had been built seven years ago and the river had never spilled over its banks and flooded They were still in the deceased’s house, wanting to do something for Pak Prawiro, but there was nothing else to be done   ‘The owners of the house will be back soon anyway,’ someone said   Sunset arrived The dusk sky was coloured by bright streaks of orange Office workers were heading home, passing through the neighbourhood gate one by one A yellow paper banner on a pole was fixed in front of Pak Prawiro’s house But people just kept walking by   ‘I’ll go back later,’ they thought, ‘now I’m just too tired’   To be sure, all the neighbours lived together peacefully without disturbing each another but it seemed they didn’t know one other either How could anyone know Pak Prawiro? He was just an elderly man who never talked about himself He could have been 60,

Contributor

August 2014

Eleanor Rees

Contributor

August 2014

Eleanor Rees is the author of four collections of poetry. Her most recent is The Well at Winter Solstice...

Crossing Over

poetry

September 2012

Eleanor Rees

poetry

September 2012

As he sails the coracle of willow and skins his bird eyes mirror the moon behind cloud. Spring tide drags west but he paddles...

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Interview

July 2014

Interview with Geoff Dyer

Tom Overton

Interview

July 2014

‘I’ve always believed that an artist is someone who turns everything that happens to him to his advantage’, Geoff...

feature

Issue No. 5

The White Review No. 5 Editorial

The Editors

feature

Issue No. 5

One of the two editors of The White Review recently committed a faux pas by reacting with undisguised and indeed...

feature

July 2015

Talk Into My Bullet Hole

Rose McLaren

feature

July 2015

‘Someday people are going to read about you in a story or a poem. Will you describe yourself for...

 

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