The Saturday Poem: an extract from ‘Grief Stitches’ by Emily Harrison
Posted by Emily Harrison
![](https://www.londonreviewbookshop.co.uk/storage/300_filter/images/1/2/6/5/3715621-1-eng-GB/Grief%20Stitches.jpg 300w, https://www.londonreviewbookshop.co.uk/storage/400_filter/images/1/2/6/5/3715621-1-eng-GB/Grief%20Stitches.jpg 400w, https://www.londonreviewbookshop.co.uk/storage/800_filter/images/1/2/6/5/3715621-1-eng-GB/Grief%20Stitches.jpg 800w, https://www.londonreviewbookshop.co.uk/storage/1200_filter/images/1/2/6/5/3715621-1-eng-GB/Grief%20Stitches.jpg 1200w, https://www.londonreviewbookshop.co.uk/storage/2000_filter/images/1/2/6/5/3715621-1-eng-GB/Grief%20Stitches.jpg 1600w, https://www.londonreviewbookshop.co.uk/storage/2400_filter/images/1/2/6/5/3715621-1-eng-GB/Grief%20Stitches.jpg 2000w, https://www.londonreviewbookshop.co.uk/storage/3000_filter/images/1/2/6/5/3715621-1-eng-GB/Grief%20Stitches.jpg 2600w)
The Saturday Poem roars back into life, with this marvellous contribution from Emily Harrison. It’s taken from her new chapbook Grief Stitches, just out from the tireless Makina Books. ‘Each moment of chaos has its equal in exquisite, distilled detail’, writes Rebecca Perry: a good summary for both this poem and the collection as a whole.
_________________________________________________________________
WHAT GETS LEFT IN THE HOUSE FIRE
The downstairs toilet with half the
leftover Chinese its three kinds of
stomach acid
the house holds Safeway
bags full of it in the cupboards and
coke cans
behind headboards and Peter
Rabbit wallpaper
Dad is writing DAD on all the
fridge food Rustlers and
cheese squares and
banana milkshakes – we’ll never know
his real name and ages
away girls are throwing a wobbly
in Asda’s as
me and my sister are racing each
other to iron deficiency shoving our
wrappers and
our knickers down the side
of our single burning bed