"Stag's Leap" wins T S Eliot's poetry prize

Sharon Olds becomes the first American woman to win the prestigious poetry award.

Sharon Olds has become the first female American poet to win the prestigious T S Eliot Prize for poetry.

Stag’s Leap, which intimately explores the end of marriage, was selected from 131 submissions to clinch the £15,000 award.

The T S Eliot Prize, which is celebrating its twentieth anniversary, is considered the most valuable and prestigious of its kind in the UK for a new collection of poetry.

This year’s all-poet judging panel included poet laureate Carol Ann Duffy, Michael Longley and David Morely.

Presenting the award at the Wallace Collection, Duffy said: “My fellow judges Michael Longley, David Morely and I were proud of the freshness, skill and authority exhibited in this year’s shortlist.

“From over 130 collections we were particularly impressed by the strong presence of women on the list and were unanimous in awarding the 2012 T S Eliot Prize to Sharon Olds’ Stag’s Leap, a tremendous book of grace and gallantry which crowns the career of a world class poet.”

The shortlist, each of which received £1,000, featured: Simon Armitage, Sean Borodale, Gillian Clarke, Paul Farley, Jorie Graham, Kathleen Jamie, Jacob Polley, Deryn Rees-Jones and Julia Copus, whose poetry and writing has featured in the New Statesman.

 

T S Eliot and Valerie Eliot in 1958 (Getty Images)
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"On Crutches" and "At Thirty Three"

Two poems by Joe Dunthorne.

On Crutches


Are you trying to say
you never leapt from a spinny chair
into the backing singer’s arms
at the gender-neutral barber’s soft launch
yelling “for I am the centrifuge,
all densities find kin within me” at which point
she – ha! – totally caught you
then whispered something tender to your charming,
harmless mole and next thing
it was dawn in the playpark as you shoulder-rolled
in dismount from the tyre’s ecliptic swing
– shoeless, by now, you maniac – coming down weird
and hard on your ankle which shivered
but did not crack – ha! – ha! – and so, in fact,
I have no fucking idea
how you hurt yourself – probably in the shower –
you horrid, impossible man.

 

At thirty-three

I finally had the dream
where I made love to my mother.
I kept saying you are my mother
and she said I absolutely am
then she phoned my father
and told him everything.

 

Joe Dunthorne’s new novel, The Adulterants, will be published in February. His poems are published in Faber New Poets 5.

This article first appeared in the 25 May 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Why Islamic State targets Britain

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