Graham Burchell

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BOOKS: LADIES OF DIVIDED TWINS                                                           
FOREWORD:

From a second hand bookshop in Houston, Texas, I purchased a visually stimulating book about the similarities and differences between Eastern Siberia and Alaska - "Divided Twins" as it was called. The photographer and the poet that had produced it had filled this volume with wonderful anecdotes and glorious photographs of the people and places. I was drawn to the images of women, particularly the old Siberian ladies (babushkas) wrapped in layer upon layer of protection from the bitter cold. After a lifetime, the unforgiving weather of these northern lands had taken a toll on their faces. It also occurred to me at some point a little earlier, that some of my poetry had been about lonely unmarried women (see "When They are not Watching", "Grace" for example). I have no real notion of why I did this, only that I enjoyed the inventiveness, the black humour of distorted reality. It was the seed of this collection of poems about encounters with, and perceptions of, my opposite gender. These poems are my expressions of fabled or real encounters with the opposite sex either as family, wives, girlfriends, artistic influences, mere glancing blows or faces staring out at me from a book.

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Ladies of Divided Twins
40 pages £4.99

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FROM THE BOOK

THE KISS
(After Frida Kahlo)

Three photos snatched of Frida
and her onion-waist husband

in the first I see delicacy
she is far too thin a rod

I am reminded of the bus she rode
that broke that broke her back

a year later she is snapped
at the Golden Gate Bridge proud

confident hair glistening
head erect hands on hips

and then the third
mi eleccion
my
nonpareil a stolen moment

a nimble lens to snatch a kiss
upon a scaffold in Detroit

in this captured beat
she is that quiet energy

in a brook a given angel
swan-neck reaching to trust

for a moment of love and pride
planted on the lips on the face

of her onion-waist man
for his art and far-reaching fame

some tenderness snapped
amid the layers of pain

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