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Caroline Bird and Helen Mort

London Review Bookshop Podcast

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How Close to a Tattoo Is a Poem

I love how the peonies on my right hip include the petal of my deepest dolce scar. My cellulite gives texture to sketched grit stone and the swifts on my chest are the heart in clumsy motion. Let me stay here for a moment, let me kneel before the sky and let me be humble, untidy, let me be decorated. I think what I am trying to ask is how close to a tattoo is a poem and how different from a tattoos is a poem. How in control do you feel when you are writing? Does that thing about being natural and being decorated?

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