The NS Poem: Lee Miller

A new poem by Janet Murray. 

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She was scissor-cut, torn head,

creased hair, shivered by each breeze.

A paper doll, she feared


a giant bird could carry her off,

or dogs run past eight-legs-fast.

In the camera’s eye, a model,


her beauty pasting paper ribbons.

She pivoted behind the camera

thrown into war’s theatre,


the new images splashed in Vogue.

She washed herself in Hitler’s bath

(Dave Scherman took the picture),


left her Dachau-dirty boots

on Hitler’s bath-mat, a moment

of revenge. But the images


wouldn’t stay outside

disturbed the papery doll inside

the pasted edges tore apart.


Janet Murray grew up in Lancashire and now lives in London. She is a former winner of the Fish Publishing Poetry Prize.

This article appears in the 09 June 2021 issue of the New Statesman, The Covid cover-up?

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