Sarah Fletcher in Torriano Avenue
by Brinda Gulati
Behind a white door tucked away in Torriano Avenue, I was introduced to Sarah Fletcher, who was kind enough to sign my copy of her collection as a ‘comrade in words’. We’ve become Facebook friends since.
Typhoid August is Sarah Fletcher’s conversation in poetry bathed in beer: fractures of dialogue in a pub, and a subtle, albeit violent, intersection of sex and mistrust. The poems are uncomfortable with everyday truths and seem to want to flee the margins of the page–the words arrested only by the cages the characters build for themselves.