Annie Fisher is a story-teller, with a background in primary education. Her debut poetry pamphlet draws on memories of a Catholic upbringing, as well as work in schools.
She knows about loss of faith, and loss of face, knows from the inside how confidence gets lost—and reasserted.
This is a poet with an eye for mischief, an ear for rhythm and form, delicious deftness of touch, and incorrigible joy in the process of creation.
The test glared, strict as a smack.
The classroom smelt of rain-soaked macs.
A man aged 27 was married to a woman, 24.
He died at 81, the wife at 91.
For what fraction of her life was she a widow?
Each page a new befuddlement.
Numbers. Riddles. Words.
They marked her Borderline, then Failed.
A timid girl. A single day. A life ago.
Put up your hand if you can calculate the cost
of all she could have learned
and would have loved