UNGLOVED Francis McCabe (Year 13)
My hands are caked in soap: Suds that ring my fingers, bubble across my palms. I wash, without gloves, plates and bowls Jigsawed aboard wine glasses and mugs And watch the garden grow slow, Joyously shouting, green through the window. Flower-passed, gloved and dirtied with mud, Mum knows How to feed the cherry tree and prune the dog rose; Which weeds to uproot and which to let lie, Which season to plant poppies and which to let them die. I know nothing and should return to my plates, But my eyes linger on her stooped figure Knuckles whitening, tightening round rake When she cranes back into brush to, rustling, Reappear, handful of green knots interlacing Her fingers in tight hug, wrists speckled with soil, Her cold breath pluming smoke wisp-lost in morning air
many different students, and have joyfully observed the growing number of writers in our community here at the College. My writing peers have exposed me to both an incredible degree of comradeship and also to the artistic ambition which underpins the diverse and driven student body of the College. Throughout the years, writing has allowed me to stay in touch with myself and my emotions. Although I am, in certain ways, very different to the kid I was when I started – not to mention well over a foot taller – I don’t feel funda- mentally different to him when I write. It’s easy to become nihilistic in today’s grossly material and fragmentary world, but to create art is, I think, a gesture of authentic hope. This hope and optimism create an atmosphere beyond the bounds of petty intolerances or snobbishness: in a room of writers, we are all simply there to express ourselves, and to think things through as a group. Upper Case is the final, Sixth Form-oriented iteration of the College’s three creative writing clubs (WordSmiths and Chameleons being the other two) and in many ways it has been the most open and enjoyable of all. This year I decided to put together a collaborative anthology of the poetry and prose written both in our Upper Case sessions and in our spare time, and it has been a true privilege to bring together on paper an incredible diversity of artistic voices, including those of some JAGS students, on a wide range of subject matter. Our final session, during which we sat on the grass outside the North Block in the awak- ening spring sun, felt in some ways like the true end to my school career, and I am sure that I will hold on to this and other memories of writing with my fellow students, forever. ◉
As mine frosts the windowpane Hiding her ruddy face from view. Suds: I dig through them, Find a fork to prune the dirt from, A spoon to plant amidst the cutlery.
Artwork by Santiago Cardenas Polo (Year 11)
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CREATIVE WRITING
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