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Swimming Between Islands
Swimming Between Islands
Swimming Between Islands
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Swimming Between Islands

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Shortlisted for the Seamus Heaney First Collection Poetry Prize 2024. Swimming Between Islands, Charlotte Eichler's first collection, has its own distinctive weathers, atmospheres and fauna. Egg collectors, moth trappers, hermits, cuttlefish, pyjama sharks and bloody henry starfish all play a part. This islanded world is the starting point for poems that explore how we try to connect with each other – despite misunderstanding, family silences and unwanted legacies. 'Read Charlotte Eichler's poems slowly, so that you can really take note of them, because they're astonishing,' said Laura Scott, responding to Eichler's poems in New Poetries VIII. Anthony Vahni Capildeo characterised her first pamphlet as 'modern pastoral, not nostalgic, and well beyond the ordinary domestic lyric'. Swimming Between Islands gathers this work with a substantial collection of new poems. In Eichler's poems, the first person singular is relational, social; it refuses to mark one consciousness neatly off from another. The poems' perspective is often plural, a 'we' which is one minute a couple considering marriage, the next, childhood friends divining the future from ladybirds and four-leafed clovers. The reader is invited to come close, and then right into the centre of the poem; the book progresses towards ever wilder, more isolated places in Scotland, Scandinavia, Russia, Alaska, where 'we are found: / the gannets are white flares / hitting the water / under a fishbone sky'.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateApr 27, 2023
ISBN9781800171381
Swimming Between Islands
Author

Charlotte Eichler

Charlotte Eichler was born in Hertfordshire and studied English Literature and Russian at the University of Nottingham. She has an MA in Norse and Viking Studies, also from Nottingham. Her debut pamphlet, Their Lunar Language, was published by Valley Press in 2018 and a selection of her work was featured in Carcanet's New Poetries VIII in 2021. She lives near Leeds.

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    Book preview

    Swimming Between Islands - Charlotte Eichler

    3

    8

    For my family

    CONTENTS

    Title Page

    Dedication

    Islomane

    Divination

    Baby Swimming

    Clean White Bones

    David

    Bathroom Ghosts

    At Mirror Lake

    What Little Girls Are Made Of (i)

    Goblincore

    Backstage

    The Rec

    Brimstones

    A Pheasant

    A Meditation of Small Frogs

    Trapping Moths With My Father

    Autumn at the Wireworks

    The Fifty-Year Traffic Jam

    1,000 Porcelain Eggs

    Malham Tarn

    Walking Dragline Excavator

    Saltburn-by-the-Sea

    What Little Girls Are Made Of (ii)

    Balloonist

    Mary, 1903

    Woman and Wall

    The Babies and the Dahlias

    Emergency

    Cephalophores

    The Navigator

    What Little Girls Are Made Of (iii)

    Ant Farm

    Survivors

    At the Cathedral of the Spilled Blood

    52 Sovetskaya Prospekt

    The Coffin Calendars

    Halfway to Voronezh

    How To Do Nothing

    What Little Girls Are Made Of (iv)

    Hervör and Völund

    Owlish

    Valkyrie

    Kaktovik

    Into the Fjords

    Fata Morgana

    Siri’s Island

    Uninhabited

    The Hermit of Treig

    Pabbay Cliffs

    Mousa, Shetland

    Asteroidea

    Swimming Between Islands

    Note

    Acknowledgements

    About the Author

    Copyright

    9

    SWIMMING BETWEEN ISLANDS

    11

    ISLOMANE

    She thinks of unhatched things:

    eider weaving slippery nests

    from the surf,

    sharp rains

    of skua and tern

    when she strays from the path.

    Some days she misses people

    and sees them in seals

    strung out in lines beyond the breaking waves.

    With a toe in the water,

    she leaves rows of pleated shells –

    wedding dresses

    and the trees filling

    with a robin’s twisted

    ribbons of song.

    *

    13

    DIVINATION

    We knew everything, playing oracle on the carpet.

    Saturdays crawled with our ladybird circus –

    from the ends of our fingers, solemn as blood,

    we sent them to find our future husbands.

    We let them trickle

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