Lemonade Anemone

I've published a new collection of poems, so I thought I'd share one from the book here.  This poem is called  Only twelve men have ever walked on the moon and one of them was allergic to moondust  - probably my longest ever poem title (so far). The poem is about societal expectations, the adversarial nature of hetrosexual intimacy, and the ways billionaires seem to be trying to go to the moon rather than seeking to forge connections with the people around them.  I wrote it in response to a prompt from my poetry writing group, and the theme was the haibun, a type of poetic form that uses haiku and prose poetry to create something with a conversational tone between the lyrical and the prosaic.   You can buy a copy of my book, Ophelia of the Bathtub, here .  Only twelve men have ever walked on the moon and one of them was allergic to moondust Imagine striving skyward, only for your destination to so thoroughly reject you. Imagine seeing it as a challenge...

 I'm currently working as artist in residence at the National Civil War Centre , a lovely little museum in Newark-on-Trent in Nottinghamshire.  I'm in the studio at the museum for three days a week, chatting with members of the public, leading creative activities, and writing poems and stories about the museum's collection. One of the first things that struck me about my new workspace was how beautiful the view from the window was! I can see out over the rooftops all the way to the church and across the treetops in the park. It's gorgeous. So, I decided to ask museum visitors to help me write a poem all about the view. I asked everyone who came to the studio to write down three words to describe what they saw from the window, then used those words to build a poem.  Here's my first draft. The words in bold (including the title) are the ones suggested by visitors.  Chim-chiminey From these heights,  everything looks different: squat square chimneys share space...