Lydia BroadleyAn English student entering her third year at Cambridge, there is no doubt that Emily Freeman possesses a wealth of literary and poetic knowledge; yet she is also a talented poet herself. If you were to flick through the various Cambridge zines, you would be sure to find at least one of Emily’s poems shining from the page. Her poetry is rich in vivid and beautiful imagery, erudite allusions and explorations into psychological turmoil of life and relationships. Moreover, Emily achieves a rarity in the student poetry scene: her work does not feel forced or contrived, but rather natural, raw and deeply moving.
St. Paul’s, at Night
By Emily Freeman
I.
Without your love,
only that man and I on the last train to
King’s Cross last stop, station to station.
He dreamt, a big baby mouth open,
as I sat sprawled on Thames-link blue dust,
thinking of a face in fifteen minutes,
my inappropriately dependent arrival,
train to comfort.
II.
We were London’s night tourists and I ran
to the steps of St. Paul’s, kicked Chopin into
stone. They echoed in his coffers as
I rose:
a dull phoenix in a long-coat
raising her cheap cup of coffee.
You made a star with your iPhone flash
and it shot through my canvas sky.
You told me to make a wish against the columns,
hold my middle finger up.
It’s a Barnum and Bailey world
I sung without the friction of day,
because there is nobody there to stare
at this time of night, only you and your
appreciation for this silver
of my self-importance:
you realise that my confidence is
nocturnal.
The city pollutes the sky so I make you
my compass, and we shiver in this late
purple hum, and you note that Five Guys
occupies some eighteenth century building.
We slow-danced in its fast, artificial
light on the steps and your face was my
paper moon, London my cardboard sea,
And it wouldn’t be make-believe
If you believed in me.
Two women walked past.
They were shitfaced, getting to their uber
as midnight came and the bells yelled,
paternal.
We stayed out cold on our Cathedral
dancefloor, traffic for trumpets,
but no standing ovation.
In Conversation
Freeman’s poem delves into a dreamy yet dark snapshot of a codependent relationship. In conversation, Emily revealed that her poetry was initially primarily instinctual, but over time a process emerged; she often takes moments from her life that strike her as poetic or cinematic and they become symbolic of wider emotions and relationships. She described her process as ‘expansion from a point’, whether that point be a moment or a phrase written in the little black notebook she carries with her.
The authenticity of her poems is enhanced by her lack of apprehension to write about those surrounding her. In fact, she often shares her poetry with the muse in question. The real fear, she says, comes in her introspective poetry; it is far harder to hold a mirror up to oneself than to observe those around us, and to then share the darkest parts of us to often anonymous readers all the more terrifying. Yet Emily still does not shy away from this with incredible bravery.
“St. Paul’s, At Night” exhibits just one example of Emily’s honest and beautiful work. Divided into two parts, the poem begins with the habitual act of travelling between Cambridge and London with her significant other, while the second part chronicles a specific moment when they danced on the steps of the cathedral. Drawing the two parts together are the scattered lyrics of the famous ballad “It’s Only a Paper Moon,” sung by the likes of Ella Fitzgerald and Nat King Cole, as well as appearing in Tennessee Williams’ A Streetcar Named Desire. For Emily, it is representative of the ‘romanticisation of a sad relationship’ and a desperation to make the ‘paper moon’ and ‘cardboard sea’ into a tangible reality.
Yet they are surrounded by the world’s artificiality: the ‘artificial light’ from the Five Guys and the pollution eclipsing the stars are the looming nature of their true relationship, that to make someone else your sole ‘compass’ is to embark upon an unhealthy journey of codependence.
Emily’s talent is clear and her poetry more moving upon each read. I for one will be keeping an eye out for her future work, whether it be in another student zine or at an open mic night.
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