Many of Jenni Fagan’s poems in The Dead Queen of Bohemia (Polygon, £9.99) hint at a life of cosmopolitan complexity, but here communication is distilled down to the thinnest of vertical lines.

TREE HOUSE

I

will

live

in

leaves

with

just

a

typewriter

a

billy

can

sending

down

paper

aeroplanes

of

poems

and drawings,

smoking

while

stars

pick

their way

across

the sky

I’ll

wait

up there

for

the

call of an owl.