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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
 

Kiss this Cross

 

Wait. I need to lace my heart,

raise my eyes above this ruckus.

 

He’s tall enough to tipsy me over.

It’s bleeding, like the real cross.

 

Don’t shove. Look. It cracks.

Or writhes. Are those woodlice?

 

No. It’s glued to his fingers. Shhh.

Oh. A polished promise.

 

What? What did you say?

Why do you hold yourself like that?

 

She has no dignity.

She stalks him like a cat.

 

I hear its wooden rosary

rattling in my throat.

 

My thighs chafe. My charm rubs

in the pocket of my fox fur coat.

 

I am crucified, plug my palm.

I’m ready, and cannot wait.

 

You’ll have to, like the rest of us.

If you’re overheating, stand in the shade.

 

It is hot. How everyone glows.

Did she just lick her lips?

 

By the time I get there

it’ll be swollen with your spit.