Spin

By Laurie Bolger

These poems of memory and girlhood are powerful evocations of the changing body and the male gaze. A raw, absurdist humour provides a sense of defiance throughout, and the tone is in turns sad, angry, rue.– Hannah Lowe

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Poetry Business
• Release date: Mar 6, 2024
• ISBN: 9781914914713

Laurie Bolger

Laurie Bolger is a London based writer and founder of The Creative Writing Breakfast Club. Her debut pamphlet 'Box Rooms' (Burning Eye) has featured at Glastonbury, TATE, RA & Sky Arts. Laurie’s writing has appeared in The Poetry Review, The London Magazine, Magma, Crannog, Stand, & Trinity College Icarus & her poems & short stories have been shortlisted for The Bridport Prize, Live Canon, Winchester & Sylvia Plath Prizes. In 2023, Laurie’s poem ‘Parkland Walk’ was awarded The Moth Prize, judged by Louise Glück, and Highly Commended in the Forward Prize for Poetry.

Book preview

Big Drop

I like to begin my day with 100 cups of coffee

               and I like to end it sitting in a chair with a beer

                                                      or against my big pillows and just sip

and I don’t think it’s the feeling of getting drunk or anything like that

I think it’s that first sip                       it does something

like when you open the cold fridge after a long shift

               kick off your shoes

                              flip the red lid

push the glass circle to your lips

letting it get stuck there as you sup the first fizz and go ahhhhh

I used to watch this kids programme with a postman called Pat

he had this cat called Jess

               and after a hard day he’d twist the lid off of a glass bottle

                                                                                                and just neck it

I’ve always been obsessed with watching men down things

               being called one of the lads but not being allowed at the stag

I remember sitting on the back step listening for them

                                          left in with pink straws and glitter

                                I listened for them chanting

the first time I got properly drunk

a boy carried me to the car like some sort of damsel

      I was light enough to be lifted up like catch of the day

                 once I got so drunk I hit