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Likestarlings is a place for talking in poems. We pair poets with poets and they write a sequence of six new works by responding in turn to one another. Our palaver blog goes beyond poetry to discuss collaboration in theory and in practice. Please take a look, and feel free to add comments, opinions and suggestions here. Read poems here
 

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I wake to find my feathered father
nesting on my chest
who once soared
or hovered looking
clearly like a hawk comes back
dim as an Auk begging to be shot
prayerfully touching
together the tips of his
vestigial wings.

“But pop” I weep “your species
is extinct.” It’s news to him.
“Never mind” he squawks “murder
me again.” It’s the old story:
“I did my dad in many times,
many different ways.”

Filial duty be damned I won’t have
my conscience on his death again.
“Where would you have it?”
He’s gone to my head to
hatch it. His son’s skull warms
under that downy fundament
like a seed in the sun, doomed
soon to bloom.