The Folly: fifth arc



The mission of the Folly’s spiritualist circle, is persuading Fiona Tattersby to forgive Simon, thus to allow his crossing. Tattersby family affairs are badly tangled, and the question of Simon’s elder brother Atherleigh, killed in a chemical explosion, leaving behind an unsettled estate, has not been broached. It is about to be, and through the medium of an unsuspected interloper, the german spy, Krug.




Perhaps a Pair of Eyes
Chiswick 1934
The Watchman
The Assassin Comes




The German SpyThe German Spy


Perhaps a Pair of Eyes


Can a man in Tattersby’s estate

Plant his feet and lift the standard

Do we contemplate to name this tidal movement

(a little shaver chipped from the block of ancient manners)

The Modern Chivalry

Dames to entertain the dropping of a hankie

Even to allow the figure of a man

The launch

if not the following of a lance


When the host was packing, and had placed his bag

In carelessness a stone’s toss from the hearth

It was Roscoe took it on himself

to knock out Simon’s marble,

with an aviator’s savvy

for the arc

Simon’s pilgrimage may serve him thus

for a geste (Fiona grants it)

‘But even there…’

She interrupts herself to thrust a finger

At the guest

‘You’ve let Virginia start you on a habit…

All whimsy and romance…this wish to lend enchantment

To an unrepentant villain and a pest.’

Her late estranged’s quest sped with quixotic perseverance

O’er his lady’s threshold, London-ward

‘But, my dear,’ the host nods aside to their leader

‘you assign the soul a task too hard.’


‘I have promised Trout I will share in his guilt,

though I rather suspect him quite safe.’

Beetling off into the woods after supper

Tramping back at dawn’s break like a sleepwalker

Trailing a fluttering of cobweb

Stumbling indoors, eyes a-stare, hair on end

Pawing at the phone in a nervous tremour

‘Ahem. Is this…Llewellyn…? Oh…I see…the colonel isn’t…

No…I have no message…’

Passing the guest he’d murmured, ‘I shall be below…’


‘There is too much light,’ says the host.

‘I really don’t make it out…but just there, upper right

Perhaps a pair of eyes and a sort of mouth.’



Chiswick 1934

Chiswick 1934


This area, where an up-and-comer rubs shoulders

With the fraying shawl of gentility

A lineage forged in lint

And where underground commuters spot oddity

Familiarly in circled eyes

And fierce vampiric lights

That pudding-skinned visages blanch

into a sinister loneliness

The chap whom no one knew

Fit in

And no one missed him

When he went


His room was in the attics

Or to speak of matters strictly, is

Even now he occupies his bed

It can’t entirely be said

Krug has vacated premises

A host of new arrivals even

Squats upon the lease


Puzzled, but largely still

Bearing above other stirrings pity for himself

A man falsified in grim disguise and shunned

(notwithstanding) he is further

Shackled  in place by a bony ankle

Reaches for the writing table

Where in his native tongue he had

Inked logorrheic gusts

And when she comes…

Will she have the sense

To burn those first—at once

Or will she stand aghast?


The German Spy
The Watchman: second German Spy

The Watchman


She would, Agnes, the wife, or helpmeet

(this was possible) approach the embassy



She would, on an island nation folded, in state laid cerebral

along the coast (the brain an aging cheese

Encroached…by mites…active pissing virtue

upon the host) go when summoned

float at very sunrise

Krug had known it, time most wise

the sun so sharp, the watchman weary

When a countryman, a Greek or Pole

A bloody Czech

A Catalan contrarian, a Turk

(Her same photograph on four separate

Passports, her same autograph, with four separate

Surnames, once Tattersby, once Serna, once dos Santos;

Once Agnes, first name Jane)

She had the child with her, sending him away

She turned…if tears were in her eyes

Obscured by rain

She stared, and Krug knew failure



She’d crossed to take his arm

And in a trance, becharmed, he’d gone


Now let his agonies be devoured

Let pellets of private speech stink from walls

their sour stink

But let her think to come and see



The Assassin Comes
The Assassin Comes: fourth German Spy

The Assassin Comes


It amounts to when

No sacrifice without advantage

(mein Herr) as to chessmen

But players on the scene bump in


In her room, Krug diligent and dozy

…not allowing sleep

Lies still and lets the streetlamp

Inform him of her corners

Jewellery chest three dressing table drawers

The fourth is simply missing for a jest

He stares tries to fathom a map of this

When she snores

He creeps, and naked pads to feel behind the glass

All her things found in the pages of a bible

Many photographs of many men and third class menus

A lock of hair

A thin, thin chain of brass

Envy he feels most

Welling through a crust of abandonment

and helpless anger

An embarrassment of other selves

This woman Agnes sheltered under

She has pretended nothing

She and Atherleigh laughing

Their bitter gay insouciance of modern thought

To die with a brilliant flash as the setting sun

Teeth like a stream of mackerel clouds

Bared in a nihilistic grin

A boy in boarding school stowed

who may reared empty thus become

Another such as the whistling falcon

Stooping on

Atherleigh dead for the second time

His body arranged as a warning sign

The assassin comes




The story begins: Calmacott’s Brother





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