“The first half having been / given up to space, I decided / to devote my remaining / life to time, this thing we live / in fishily or on like moss”. In Hannah Sullivan’s second collection of poetry Was It for This (quite like her first, the inimitable Three Poems), Sullivan excavates her personal relationship with space and time across a trio of varied, daring long poems. ‘Tenants’, the first poem, uses reports and testimony to consider the tragedy of the Grenfell fire, “To think of an event, a thing that happened, / To understand how vague it was, / How confused, uneventful, out of time.” The events of the fire fracture and yet ultimately distinguish time: “You think there was no timeline in my mind, / I don’t remember that specific time. / What I remember was the whiteness of the fire / A perfect whiteness, magnetising…” The poem ends in “The tinnitus of silence after sound”, and the next poem, the title poem, then charts several spaces through time, from 1980s London to 2020, via America and other detours, the decades truncated. As the voice grieves the loss of her father time and space intersect continually, “the still centre of my life, the point, the marrow: me”. It longs for “a glimpse of something to believe in that was communal / And still to come.” Finally, in ‘Happy Birthday’, age and parenthood are the nexus for the monotony of life (“So yes, it was New Year and / then my birthday yet again”) and for the boundlessness of regret, a refrain creeping in: “I wanted all of it again / to do again”. The ending is defiant and radical, “the flashiness of staring down / tomorrow”; as with much of Sullivan’s work, it feels like being lovingly, brutally seen.