About Text Size: larger | normal | smaller
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
 

Conversation at Criccieth Castle


The point, my father says, is that my legs are like curtain poles,
my chest is a shoebox filling with glue. When I walk
I clank and rattle like an old cart.

Imagine a billion years ago, Daddy, what would we be?
He says, fronds of seaweed waving.

Great seascape, he adds, turning his back to the ruins
but colour would add something.
Did I mention the planks of wood pinned to my sides?
It’s like going back to wide angle brooding.

Imagine us both in the garden, Daddy
having leapt from the beige sofa to the great outdoors.
How would I find you amongst the roses and mare’s tails?
You’d be colouring the anaemic daisies in, humming.

The point is, I say, I need to go back to the time
I could ride on your shoulders in my orange silk dress
and turn you into the sun.

Behind my father a signpost says don’t climb on the

I can think of nothing to do but pull my coat around me
and imagine blossom falling from the monkey puzzle tree.