Whoever said University was 'a doss' is only two thirds correct. The first two years are fine; essays can be submitted with not much care and attention and results become like a spirit-level of how you felt that day. Third year however is a totally different story. Every essay is meticulous, planned to death and the day of results is akin to the nerves you get when the Police knock on your door and tell you of some bad news. It's because of this work-related purdah that I have next to no social life lately. Invites for house parties are graciously rejected along with cantankerous thoughts of 'where the hell do they get the time?!'. Maybe I'm over-doing it, maybe I am. But I've got 5 weeks to get a First that'll get me in to an MA which will no doubt drain another year of my social life.

Other than my academic purdah I've had two lots of good news relating to a batch of poems I submitted to two local publications - they're going to be printed! Two in Turbulence and one in a new literary journal that aims to highlight creative writing from the University of Hull. So all in all, good news! Aside from this good news, I will on the 22nd of March be heading home for a night to see the amazing John Grant, which I can't wait for. Hopefully I'll be able to find a spare half an hour to review it!

Below is 'Nude', one of the poems that will be in featured in Turbulence Issue 6 available at the end of the month.


Nude, except for a full head of hair
Blackened with the waters’ weight
And the occasional cloud of
Bubble bath, airy stratocumuli
Dusting the fronts of your thighs.

Nude, but for pinkish pale skin lain
Across your bones like fine muslin.
Or clay, worked and smoothed
To a painterly perfection; like a
Magnum opus, an inspired selection.

Nude, nothing hidden or concealed.
No blouse to hide the sudden slash
Of a surgeon’s knife on your left hip.
No trouser leg to hide the silver
Cicatrix where my blood once congealed.

Nude, but for a wry grin and smiling
Eyes; naked as a cloudless sky.

Copyright: Callum Smith