Caviar

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‘By turns evocative of English landscape paintings and frantic late-night conversations,Sarah Fletcher’s poems are highly mobile, troubled, troubling, rich and fraught.’ — Chris Kraus, author of I Love DickAssociative, sensuous, and unstable, Caviar explores the line between decadence and depravity. In Fletcher’s third pamphlet, investigations of power and violence are no longer limited to the domestic and romantic. She interrogates all dark spheres of influence: ‘A word. A woman hit. A nuclear bomb.’ Language is ‘consumed and mated’, a ‘divine bistro’ that shows her mastery over form.With winking intelligence and playful sleaze, this pamphlet is a circus of swans, slapped faces, and the snottiest, most expensive delicacy in the world.‘Alliterative, witty, interrogative; the poems in this pamphlet have the sharp specificity of dream, but also touch ‘the universal in this caper’. I read it and re-read it again — Caviar is addictive and truly exciting, like the prowling, boozy dark talking restlessly in its sleep.’ — Martha Sprackland