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The Texts

Princess in the Martello Tower

Shunning the lift

I spiral downwards

into the mothership

hands gliding on the smooth stair-rail

following the dip and turn

the brush of a bird's wing caught underlip


Someone has removed the concrete, its thick walls,

the gun-slits where arrows and then cannons flew

replacing it with glass cubes through

which the Channel swims in graphs


I'm going intergalactic

the concave tower enfolds me, wraps me

in its promises of safety within armadas;

whole fleets of ships cruising these waters

wouldn't know that I was here.


My footsteps flip lightly on steel stairs

I am the princess in the tower

Rapunzel letting down her hair

in high-density plastic

and rods of steel. If not for CCTV

and Security I would race up and down

these stairs matching my velocity


with the wheeling wind coming in from the sea

trapped into the cowls

on the roof-top, spinning, falling, leaping

dancing for all eternity.

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Arts Council England
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