Tissue

Imtiaz Dharker's Tissue (from her 2006 collection The Terrorist at My Table) uses paper as a single, developing image to think about human power and how lasting it really is. The poem is quietly philosophical rather than dramatic: there is no story, only a meditation.

Dharker looks at the many kinds of paper that organise our lives, such as maps, money, holy books, architects' plans and receipts, and shows that all of them are thin, easily torn and short-lived. The suggestion is that the structures we build to control the world are far more fragile than they seem.

The title carries a deliberate double meaning: tissue is both thin paper and the living tissue of the human body. This links paper to people, hinting that we too are delicate and temporary.

The poem builds towards a hopeful, gentle idea: if we let go of the false permanence of paper and power, what remains is human life itself, "kissed alive by the sun".

The form of Tissue enacts its meaning. It is written mostly in unrhymed four-line stanzas with no regular metre, giving it a loose, open, free-verse feel that mirrors the poem's message that nothing is fixed or permanent.

• Frequent enjambment carries phrases across line and stanza breaks, so the poem flows without hard stops, like light passing through thin paper.
• The lack of a strict rhyme scheme suggests a world without rigid rules or fixed boundaries.
• The final stanza is shorter (a single line), breaking the pattern and drawing the eye to the poem's closing turn from paper to human skin.

The tissue-thin structure is part of the argument: a poem about fragile, permeable things is itself built to feel light and open rather than solid and controlling.

When you write about the form, connect it directly to meaning. The loose structure is not accidental; it embodies impermanence, the poem's central idea.

The heart of the poem is an extended metaphor in which paper represents the man-made structures of power and control.

Kind of paper	What it represents
Maps and borders	Political power and the way humans divide up land
Money and receipts	Economic power and the value we place on transactions
Holy books, "the Koran"	Religious authority and belief passed down generations
Architects' plans	The buildings and cities we construct to last

Dharker's key move is to show that all of these are fragile. Paper can be "turned transparent" when light shines through it, so the structures we treat as solid are in fact thin and permeable. The image of light passing through paper suggests that a greater force (nature, time, or something spiritual) shines through all human systems.

She writes of paper that lets "the daylight break through capitals and monoliths", where great cities and monuments are reduced to shapes that light passes straight through. This quietly undercuts the idea that anything humans build is truly permanent.

Dharker's language is soft, delicate and full of images of light and thinness, which reinforces the poem's argument about fragility.

• "paper thinned by age or touching": paper worn by handling suggests both the passing of time and human care; the wear is gentle, not violent.
• "the sun shines through their borderlines": light ignores the borders humans draw on maps, hinting that natural forces are indifferent to political power.
• "fly our lives like paper kites": a simile comparing our lives to kites, which are beautiful but flimsy and at the mercy of the wind, capturing both freedom and fragility.

The recurring imagery of light is central. Light passing through paper implies that human structures are not solid barriers but thin membranes, and that something larger shines through everything we make.

The tone throughout is calm and reflective rather than angry. Dharker does not condemn human power so much as gently remind us of its limits.

Tissue explores several ideas that connect it to the Power and Conflict cluster.

• The fragility of human power. The maps, money and monuments we rely on are as thin and tearable as paper.
• Impermanence. Nothing humans build truly lasts; time and light pass through everything.
• The value of human life over structures. The poem turns finally to living skin, suggesting people matter more than the systems that control them.

For context (AO3), Imtiaz Dharker was born in Pakistan, grew up in Glasgow and has lived across cultures, so she is drawn to the idea of borders and identities as things imposed on paper rather than fixed truths. Her interest in maps, borders and religious texts reflects a life spent crossing between countries and cultures.

The poem also sits in a wider tradition of writing that questions whether human power endures, a concern it shares with Shelley's Ozymandias. Where Ozymandias mocks a tyrant's ruined statue, Dharker takes a gentler, more meditative route to the same conclusion—human power does not last.

For this in-copyright poem, learn short embedded phrases and the analysis that unlocks them.

Quotation	What to say about it
"Paper that lets the light shine through"	The opening establishes the extended metaphor; light through paper symbolises the fragility of everything humans build.
"let the daylight break through capitals and monoliths"	Great cities and monuments are reduced to thin shapes; even the grandest human structures cannot block the light.
"the sun shines through their borderlines"	Nature ignores political borders drawn on paper, undercutting the permanence of human power.
"fly our lives like paper kites"	A simile capturing how beautiful yet flimsy human life is, at the mercy of forces beyond our control.
"turned into your skin"	The closing shift from paper to living tissue suggests human life, not built structures, is what truly matters.

Because the metaphor runs through the whole poem, strong answers track how one image (paper) is developed and reinterpreted, rather than treating each quotation in isolation.

1. Reading the poem too literally

Tissue is not really about paper; paper is a symbol for fragile human power. Answers that only describe types of paper miss the metaphor and stay in the lower bands.

2. Ignoring the double meaning of the title

"Tissue" means both thin paper and living human tissue. Naming this link between paper and people strengthens your reading and shows you understand the poem's turn to skin at the end.

3. Not connecting form to meaning

The loose, unrhymed, enjambed structure reflects impermanence. Saying the poem is "free verse" is not enough; explain that the open form embodies the idea that nothing is fixed.

4. Copying long stretches of the poem

The poem is in copyright, and long quotation earns no analysis marks. Embed short phrases and analyse the technique and effect instead.

5. Forgetting the comparison in Section B

The anthology question is comparative. Tissue pairs strongly with Ozymandias (both on the impermanence of human power) or Kamikaze. Build the answer around shared and contrasting ideas.