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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
 

Hunger


After dark the pangs come harder,
faster. The skin prickles with antfoot throbs,
the eyeballs start to itch, salt heat pools
behind the knees.
Flipping the pillow over to the cool side
will not appease it.

Nor will the flickering fridge light
and handfuls of midnight berries, cubes of cold, dark
chocolate or the crunch of ice
from the star-shaped tray you bought.

So every night you pluck one, fresh from the sky,
and feel your fluttering chest subside.
Tonight it’s the curve of Cassiopeia’s breast.
Hold it cupped in your hands,
glittering and cold. Roll it like a marble
across the shadows under your eyes,
until it leaves silver tracks across your skin.

Squeeze it between your fingers like a grape
and watch it pulsate with light. Hold your tongue.
Breathe deep and keep it poised,
peeled and shivering, let it drip its juices slowly
into the hot, dry corridor of your throat.