A visit to the Tracey Emin exhibition at Tate Modern

The bed, the holy bed, Lit like an icon Like a crucifixion. “If you’ve never had an abortion you don’t know what you’re talking about.” Abortion And another abortion A smear of watercolour pink. “You made me love you, I never wanted to.” “Slag, slag, slag.” The sea so blue The video moving so fast. “I left school at 13 Hung around bars Had fish and chips and sex night after night On the beach In alleys In the park Sometimes in a hotel.” “We will fight them on the beaches.” My self-portraits are all parts Sick parts, bloody parts I never feel whole; If scarlet is the colour of love Brown is the colour of cancer. Vibrant line drawings That Matisse might have done if he had the guts. Is this a joke? Words, words, words, And more words I thought you were a painter. Hazel would hate this Good she didn’t come Being dead has its advantages More perhaps than being alive. All this sex Sex, sex, sex It is important No sex, no people But is it that important? Answers not provided Answers extra.…