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Reading a poetry play which.. err..as the name suggests, is a play in a sequence of poems. All poems are in a series of monologues, recited by a woman in a moving train. This is one of my favourites in the book.


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Imagine a cut,

straight and clear,

like two panes of glass nestled together,

touching.



Each with its longings and allegiances.


Now imagine a heart, split,

not broken.

A jagged cut runs through the core.

No steady heart could join it.


Never again whole.


‘Dreams of May’

Sue Guiney