New verse by Wellington writer Claudia Jardine. The Vodka Rondeau In the spare room there is a bed below the mould and rusted red of the top flat’s hot water tank, which burst and made the room so rank that you can’t sleep there clear-headed. We are the deaded; few drinks bled … Read more
A translation of good old Catallus (c84-54BC) by Claudia Jardine. Introductory remarks by Claudia Jardine: A lot of New Zealand writers have had a go at Catullus [in Anna Jackson’s I, Clodia and Other Portraits, quite literally]. He holds a special place in the heart for most Latin students, being the usual introduction to Latin love … Read more
New verse by Wellington poet Claudia Jardine, who previously thrilled and disturbed Spinoff readers with her poem ‘My Iron Cervix.’ Ode to Goon So there’s me, sprawled across the bed eating bits of biscuit like Bacchus, and you, half out of a suit, looking at me as if I’m street-art you scraped off a wall … Read more
A pantoum by Wellington writer Claudia Jardine. My Iron Cervix Whilst muttering all for my sexual prime, I lay on the bed and tried not to faint. The doctor was having a hard time so the nurse held my arm, a pre-emptive restraint. I lay on the bed and tried not to faint, … Read more