TWO NEW POEMS BY JULIAN STANNARD

Tobleronia

Looking out of the window
looking at the snow
made you feel drowsy.
The train trundled along.
You dozed off.
You were asleep for too long.
You missed that little village
on the hill
with its glühwein and chocolate fruit.
You missed the Toblerone factory
and the ornate clock.
You missed the Kunst Halle
and the Rathouse.
The train crossed the Rhine,
crossed back again.
You missed that flick of sunshine.
You missed Dorf Kitsch
the polyglottal border town
where everyone is rich.
You missed the pike fillets
battered in beer
and the chocolate cake
covered in cream
and the local yodelling team
You’re awake now.
You’re at the end of the line.
The snow’s thickened.
There’s a storm on the way.
There are no trains back for a while.
You’d not wanted to travel
this far north.
You put your face to the window.
Welcome to Wank Dorf.

The Towel

This was not the beginning
nor was it the end.
My friend,
the towel hung on the line
for weeks.
The rain continued to fall.
The towel was doused.
The towel was drenched.
It wasn’t drowning,
It was beating
like a half-hooked fish,
half-dead, groaning.
There was a moment
when the rain fizzled out.
A watery sun.
A teacake above the cupola.
No point bringing in the towel.
You can’t dry yourself
with Lake Titicaca.
I wondered how wet
a towel could get.
After four years
said Quentin Crisp
the dirt doesn’t get any worse.
The house starts cleaning itself.
MIRACOLO!
It was clear
the towel had become
a martyr.
Or a chancer
in Tyburn.
Towel of wonder.
Towel of light.
After the storm

after the lightning
after weeks of meteorological misery
my towel was cut down.
A corpse towel.
A dead monk in the grass.
I didn’t want to look at it.
The rain continued to fall.
I had a moment of compassion.
It was difficult to lift.
My Caspian Sea.
I pushed the towel
across the line.
It was alive.
I heard its prayers.
And I walked away.
Listening to Iggy Pop
on my headphones.
I want to go to the beach,
he said,
I don’t care if it’s decadent.

Julian Stannard’s latest collection is Please Don’t Bomb the Ghost of my Brother (Salt, 2023). He is a Reader in English and Creative Writing at the University of Winchester. He used to teach at the University of Genoa, and Sottoripa: Genoese Poems – a bilingual publication – was published by Canneto in 2018. He has been the recipient of Bogliasco and Hawthornden Fellowships and his work has been nominated for Forward and Pushcart Prizes. In 2024 he was awarded the Lerici Prize for his contribution to Italian letters. Later this year, his novel, The University of Bliss, will be published by Sagging Meniscus Press (USA). His website is www.julianstannardauthor.com