Here, once


Chasing the odours of burnt pocketbooks,

to teenage angst plotted roughly sometime

between Glasnost and things can only get better,


led by the nose to the horse-pool, no idea of escape,

the shakings and trembling in the hedges

of something-something summers to come.


In a reel of suburban dogs barking, gulls rising a V across

the sunset in the near that bleeds umber and gold

onto four walls once long with Thatcherite shadows,


and in the knowing that one day it would all be

in the middle distance, a seam of light is struck

to fade the poster of a one-hit wonder.



Jane Commane (forthcoming in Assembly Lines from  Bloodaxe Books, 2018).



Individual poems of mine can also be found online at:

Proletarian Poetry

And Other Poems

The Stare’s Nest

University of Warwick (includes audio recording).