“I try to imagine being with Charlotte Mew on March 24, 1928, the day she killed herself. Let me befriend her. Let me do and say things to ease her pain and save her.

“I’m a lesbian poet from the year 2020, Charlotte, who adores your poems, how they transform your torment into art.

“If I couldn’t save Mew on that day in 1928, perhaps I could save her poems.”