Lucy Williams - 'internal weather'
Lucy Williams reminds us that we’re not the only ones on the back step looking to the stars for
clues. She writes of hearts and arrows, spills and saves, speaking so clearly you think the stars might answer. She
knows the dinner table is best cleaned with long, wide strokes, and that the arc of each stroke can be epic—the
remains of the past, what we keep and discard, what we imagine beyond routine’s course. But metaphor and image
are merely bunting if they haven’t been challenged by crisis, and Williams is among those true poets who
declare the difficult worth of their craft. It’s a welcome voice that returns to us, her first collection in
fourteen years, one that calls mortality ‘that bastard bully’, knowing that ‘truth will never soften in the
telling’. These are poems to read while on the back step under past and present light, cherishing stars and the
silence filled by a call from someone you love.
— Nathan Curnow