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The Courtauldian

c/o The Students’ Union

The Courtauld Institute of Art

Vernon Square, 

Penton Rise,




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Bea Fomin's

Poetry Corner


24th March 2020

One look used to hold every fibre captive

And every second eternal.

One word would roll from your mouth

And taste so sweet that I couldn’t speak.


Power was held in the possibility you presented.


It took one night for you

To vomit out the desires that you share

With every other I have known.

And just like that,


you stepped into the realm of men.


Gods don’t walk among us,

And really I should have known.

I don’t blame you, its nature’s big trick.


You mistook the big smoke

For the clouds of Olympus,

Giving yourself a grand entrance but

Now your hands hold soot instead of me.


Don’t worry, the fall won’t hurt so much after all.


24th February 2020

Thump, gush, sight.
The air electrifies an invisible tether
Between us pulses of unsaid might-have-beens course
Through veins which swell and surge
A single prick would show internal overkill.

Thump, gush, sound.
Vibrations emerge from your mouth and crash into my ears
Drums beat, the rhythm of the dance is violent
But muted.
Our melody is begun by one,
But falters in the round.

Thump, gush, touch.
Fields of magnetism bloom
into thoughts racing across planes of skin.
Light graze turns to testing press.
Both hands falter to turn the detonation keys.
Unprepared for the fallout.

Pulses halt as if shot, before evaporating.
Connection failed.
Drums burst and the music box cracks.
Interaction unsustained.
Surfaces are cut, bruised, banished.
Transaction denied.
Thump, gush, splinter, smash.

Scent exists in loneliest moments of togetherness.
Pillowcases cradling heads too heavy
with wafts of youth, and me.

A taste of the unknown remains just so.

Senses feed organs starved of reason,
Running on replays of you.