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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
 

Twelfth Night

 

It ends with the boiling of bones.
Flesh leaves the ribs as easily
as pine needles leave dry branches.

An old carcass in grey water
shrouded by its own grease.
It ends with the boiling of bones.