Emily Berry is the Editor of The Poetry Review. She is the ­author of the poetry collections Stranger, Baby and Dear Boy.
 (June 2020)



In the midst of a continual program of demolition and reconstruction, we noticed, one summer, that our city had begun to replicate, via its infrastructure, the prohibitions of the mind. There were roadworks constricting almost every major thoroughfare. Buses were regularly terminated short of their destination or treated passengers halfway through their journey to the wearying and ominous automated announcement, “This bus is on diversion.”

From Unexhausted Time

“Attempts at description are stupid,” George Eliot says, yet one may encounter a fragment of unexhausted time. Who can name its transactions, the sense that fell through us of untouchable wind, unknown effort—one black mane? —Anne Carson The gate stood open to let her spirit out. Somewhere above, a cacophony …