Unholy Trinity
(Angel Readman, Vali Stanley, Heather Young)
(Iron Press) 2002

Unholy Trinity is the first body of work I ever had accepted. I am grateful that Peter Mortimer was very encouraging when I sent poems to Iron and agreed to put me in an anthology of new women poets. This came just when I needed it, the MA was harsh. It came out after Colours, but the poems were earlier work than that due to the publishers schedules.

I published under the name Angel Readman, because I hoped to change my name to Angel. But I found that most writers and people I know refused to ever call me Angel, so I gave up. One or two close friends call me Angel, I love them for that, others still refuse to. One day I might change my writing name, but I've given up that people I know will ever call me anything I want them to!

My favourite poem in Unholy Trinity is: Always by Heather Young.

My favourite poems of my own in Unholy Trinity are: Jalapeño’s Extra Cheese, Morning after Bronte’s

The poem I most like to do at readings in Trinity is: PVC, DC, Catwoman and Me

Poems I never read in Trinity are: My mother is a Sybil, Previous Tenant

What would I do different now?

Unfortunately, the second page of one of the poems must have been lost somewhere along the way, and the final two stanzas of one of the poems are missing - which drives me nuts! As I tend to read from A4 print outs I didn’t even notice this until last year, so I’m hoping other readers won’t have!

Jalpeno’s, Extra Cheese

Pull open a Stella
I ask how many she’s been with.
Shake up the can till all the fizz is gone;
Flat. She answers question with question.
“Been what?-Naked?-To sleep?-To the movies?”

“Lovers.”

Bends her fingers back, she lists all the lads
she ever kissed. Names like Ste, Andy, Gary,
Sink plunging lips, signing their autographs
with sand tongues.
“How did they love me?”she says
“let me count the ways…None.”

Watching Ricki Lake she slits her wrists;
Open mouthed smiles on her skin
her fingers make talk.
“It was just to see the bones moving”
she says, “I’m hungry, starving, bored.”

Bound her up in a faded Lou Reid t-shirt,
ordered pizza and hired American Werewolf in London.
One eye on special effects, in bed, I ask her.
She said she just wanted to see what was in her,
to see how she worked, before she stopped.

Angel Readman (Unholy Trinity)

www.ironpress.co.uk/ipoetry