It might seem odd that, not having eaten meat since 1982, I should become obsessed with something so very meaty, but Siobhán Campbell’s poem ‘Rump’ in the latest issue of Poetry Wales is just the sort of superb poem which floats my boat, grounded as it is in the strangest reality. In that respect, it reminds me of the output of some other Irish writers I love: Martina Evans, Matthew Sweeney, Flann O’Brien, even Patrick McGinley.

I’d quote from it, but really the poem needs to be read in its entirety. If you don’t subscribe to Poetry Wales, then maybe you should, here.