Held
Held (Yaffle 2024)
Held pulls no punches. These are edgy, daring poems that speak of love, longing, despair and desire, in all their guises. We are held in an embrace, held in prison, held in the memory, held at arm’s length, but most of all, it’s our attention that is held, from first page to last.
Reid’s work is seductive. Wherever this dark-humoured storyteller takes us, we go willingly. He shows us sights, offers us places, the vernacular. A guided tour. See this telephone box? Remember that festival? Oh, what a film that was! He introduces people, makes connections, starts
conversations, allows us to wander off and explore.
These are poems of memory, of things and people ‘held’ dear, as in the stunning character pieces The Bard’s Study and Granny Maggie. They are also poems about things and people ‘held’ onto for too long, taking us to darker places. Every moment he asks us to consider, as the first poem The Jeweller suggests, has been cut and crafted, polished, then set to its best advantage in this skilled collection.
Honest and authentic. Brilliants and brilliance. A work of clarity.
Kevin Reid is a nomad who speaks to Gods and ghosts in Scottish vernacular. These assured poems shine like the jewels lost loved ones are preserved as; defiance in their confessions, disapproval worn as a badge of honour. Desire and want exist in the fucked-up end of love.
One poem riffs off Jeanne Martinet’s Seven Rules for Happiness, the first five at least. The sixth Never finish anything you begin is left unanswered, the seventh nowhere to be seen. The sparks of humour, reminiscent of Ivor Cutler, suggest he’s coming to an understanding with it: Your bed is empty. / Mammy says you are on your way to heaven / in the nice white box… I made a wish – that soon, more people / will want to go to heaven in their box.
There is beauty in these poems, not just in his terrace view of the golden float of the Acropolis, but in its ragged cast of characters; in the tough love of Granny Maggie, who Secured her keys an holy medals to her bra strap wae a safety pin.
Kevin Reid 