POETRY EDITOR
There is an idea of a Sian Rathore, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there.
But seriously, I’m a 27 year old madwoman witch living in East Lancashire, who once thought it was a good idea to write poetry.