The bodies central to this work are black boy and holy. In Touched, Hughes is careful with it, he handles the body as deliberate and tender as one would a poem.
I recently saw Hughes give a live poetry reading via zoom, in which he read mostly newer works from a forthcoming collection, but also dug out a few of what he described as “older poems”, which were read straight from this collection. He was great, especially when he occasionally broke into song, and these poems are great, too. Visceral and often violent, they press your face to the glass and leave everything on display. It’s a bit harder-edged than you might expect, and I was surprised to think of Dennis Cooper at a few points, with a similar detached fixation on the body and its internal workings and how it functions under abuse. Not light-hearted in any sense, but reading this, you’ll certainly feel something.
Touched is masterful. Hughes gives voice to aches that are excruciating to write. These poems drain memory of its power, but they do not hoard that power. These poems throw open the windows and let in the light.
This was not the subject matter I thought it was (violence on the body, not love or joy - no idea now where I got my original sense of it), but it is beautiful, flaying, healing.