Question & Answer 4 – Kirsten Irving

Question 4

If she had seen the same moon as I do
would she have watched the rabbit
shape sweetness for the night’s journey?

I’m three moons short of a baker’s dozen,
the thunder moon obscuring the leftovers
to bring in the full collection.

Watching the lunar phases in early evening
reminds me that the day’s work is done
when the rabbit says so, not when I choose.

– Aaron Kent

Answer 4

I am a princess. All girls are. Even if they live in tiny old attics. Even if they dress in rags. Even if they aren’t pretty, or smart, or young. They’re still princesses. All of us.
Sara Crewe, A Little Princess

Who’s the princess now? Many people
see the moon. Some because their turret
window opens onto it, the white light
drenching their courtyard; others
because they have no window
roof, walls. The moon
may visit when it will,
drench what it will.

Once a king or queen of Narnia,
Always alone
Always the boy who killed a wolf cold.
Always the girl who was not allowed to fight.

Here are the things the moon brings:
Blood
Werewolves
Minds unmoored
A silver necklace (limited edition)
A backdrop for spiky tree silhouettes.
The tide, unsure, knocking timidly

– Kirsten Irving

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Question & Answer 3 – Kirsten Irving

Question 3

I see giants the size of angels
and angels the size of small alleyways.
These are all we have to keep track
of the dark ages,
beside a collection of wells so intricately hidden
that they long to cure gout and depression.
This whole county is blue
and blew itself up.
Cornwall rode the lip you describe,
slid heavily into madness
and took all of our fields of wheat with it.
[cheap memes]
What do you do when you’ve defeated the moon,
and found four more waiting
just outside of your consciousness?
I read them Murakami
and create a cat that talks in tongues.
I have seizures in the night time
and stab the men who come for me.

– Aaron Kent

Answer 3

There was a little princess who lay dying
and wanted the moon, knew it would save her.
They gave her a moon of silver for her neck,
and she got better, knew it would grow back in the sky
like the thumbnail she held up to eclipse it.

There are plastic truths and there are granite truths.
There are conducting truths of copper (silver
carries faster, but costs far more) and there are
insulator truths in glass and rubber. They make
Things quieter, the view so much better.

– Kirsten Irving

Question & Answer 2 – Kirsten Irving

Question 2

You might have five ways to comfort a kitten
but I want eight ways to hold hands with an octopus,
or seventeen different ways to share secrets
with the lost vampires of Macedonia.
My grandfather’s headstone will probably read:
‘Not really Aaron’s Grandad’.
Because he wasn’t, Amanda, and I am not part-Hungarian.
His blood is not my blood as my mother told me,
two weeks before I leapt in a submarine.
Today your marathon run could burn down
with all the impact of a drunken stumble.
Today you could eat your way through Scotland,
all of it never yours, never ours, never mine.
If Scotland is not yours, then whose is it?
It wasn’t mine when I lived near Glasgow
and held it tight as I wore its traffic cones
upon my architect’s head.
I wish it was mine.
I miss Hungary.
I miss Scotland.
I miss Kent.

– Aaron Kent

Answer 2

Let’s miss it all. The names we might have had.
The blood and costume and scandal of our families.
Let’s play being alone; it’s what drives
– oh boy – everything after all,
this terror of alleys, of empty space.
The lip between here and madness
is so slim. It would be easy
without others around, to step right over,
drown, drop down.
To defeat the moon, I meet it halfway,
play deranged. I play a card game for one,
inventing a boyfriend eight foot tall,
fang by fang, scale by scale.
I call him Carcass and paint him copper.
Then I wheel out a times-more-awful me
so there is one, one I can point to,
and start my – our – sad diary.

The cards were made by a naked female giant.
The cards came from Poland.
The giant waits there.

– Kirsten Irving

Question & Answer 1 – Kirsten Irving

Question 1

My country has no faith in teamwork,
but has faith in the myth of lemmings
jumping from cliffs to secure profits.
We hunt as strangers fighting for the last
token gesture in a forest made for treehouses,
hammocks, and all those useless bluebells.
….Everybody is photographing bluebells.
….And I still can’t tell the difference.
….Between forget-me-nots and foxgloves.
I have not seen the glory of Prynne’s arc
but I assume it reads like a rainbow drawn
in invisible ink – where colour meets imagination.
How do you draw the lines of a divided country?
Where do we put our efforts for a beaten system?
The stars are sewn with silkworms.

– Aaron Kent

Answer 1

Five ways to comfort a kitten

I’m writing to you from the land of my dead
and I can’t stop aping the accent. I can’t
quite accept that Scotland is not really mine.
But the border is fluid for now, for now.
Yesterday I saw my great-great-(great?)
grandfather’s headstone, stashed in ivy.
The day before, I found a cluster of my Tods
in a lair. I found a slam of Ivanka’s book
and saw lambs. I had a mocha and an argument.
How do you turn off these notifications?

Kitten with larva in his head

The scenery is neon/pretty with conifers, lochs,
SNP posters, and my phone goes off
and there’s the incline ahead. I should share
my death story – that’ll sort this all out.
Ahem, then. I would have been just as dead,
as Alexander Leslie and ivyed up
half my life ago, from a swollen brain,
without the NHS; five nations of brains
stood over me. Give me ten. We’re losing them.
So I do sign things. I like things and nothing.

The saddest kitten you’ve ever seen

Today was somebody’s somethingeth birthday
Today the cloud symbol was white with a sun
Today I shut all the tabs and windows
Today I hearted a marathon run
Today a queer teen was pushed from a building
Today there are 30 vaquitas left
Today a black kitten leapt out of a crisp box
Today I remembered that Tod means death.

– Kirsten Irving