My poem ‘A Rat’ is in the second issue of Letters to Barnacle. Yup, you can buy it on Etsy.
Whenever you release one of your volumes some animal part of me, think a rat, scans it for buried reference to myself.
As if you would mention me when, to you, I am just a legobrick of shared biography and taste that clicks with yours , clumsily, if I’m there.
You live like this is the 60s
which is fine for you who is
a man in leather shoes
on cobbled streets in Manchester
you think that this is Manchester and
that I’m only impressed by your shoes and
looking at them as I walk down cobbled
streets in old fashioned hats and coats
with your new wife, perhaps this is Manchester.
When we met alone that time from a distance
I saw you wave like a sharp
corner. You were not so slick then, but intense.
later I found out that you were not so slick but intense
with other women and I felt duller.
So, in what manner would I appear in your memoirs?
No manner except a raised eyebrow,
a swirling skirt at a party trying
to say a clever woman thing to say,
a hand on someone else’s arm,
pouring a glass of wine,
raising it and it’s coffee
going dark and going home.
I use “you” here because I want to and,
yes, I have written a poem about you,
we all did
you’re that sort of person.