“I think that titles are best used when they tell us something about the poem – specifically, something that you may be otherwise unable to say within the body”
In two hundred years we live in a cleft of Bannau Brycheiniog National Park
and it's bigger than we need. It’s not hard
to live within our means, but
we have two fog-faced children
who we think of semi-guiltily. We point
from the window to certain tides, shimmering
star-glitter winking in the seafoam
and we hold each other – trace the blueing
maps wrinkling in our skins.
We bake my nanny’s fruit bread
then ship loaves to our best-loved neighbours.
We kiss more. We watch the boats
trawling beneath the cliffs and we make love
like always: oven on, lights off, steam dribbling
its solemn rivers down the panes.
Your title was immediately gripping, and I love how it flows into the body of the poem. Could you tell me a bit about your process for creating a title?
There’s a lot of joy for me in finding the right title. I feel like titles are sometimes, and sadly, throwaways for poets. We might lift a sentence, or a particular, significant word from the poem’s body and use that, for lack of something punchier. The titles that draw me in most are either clear or evocative. Danez Smith’s “I’M GOING BACK TO MINNESOTA WHERE SADNESS MAKES SENSE” springs to mind for both. The poem’s contextual field is instantly broadened by its title: the poem is placed, movement is invoked, and an emotional chord is seamlessly struck.
I think that titles are best used when they tell us something about the poem – specifically, something that you may be otherwise unable to say within the body. In the body of my poem, there’s no way for a reader to glean the fixed time or place, because it’s outside the scope of the poem’s “fluid” narrative voice. I decided, then, to focus the title around placing it, and then carry it into the body to establish a sense of motion.
I like to think of titles as a kind of liminal space; somewhere that you can play; somewhere outside of the strict parameters of the poem; somewhere that connects the unsuspecting reader and the poet. I suppose I just like to put titles to work!
There is so much motion in this poem. Even when the speaker seemed to be standing still, it felt as though there was always movement around them. How do you create motion in a poem?
I was really thinking about what was implied by the poem, and about the inherent movement of climate change. I remember first considering it in a poetic sense when I heard Taylor Edmonds read “My Magnolia Tree” from her pamphlet Back Teeth. Her reading deeply moved me and prompted me to consider what it would mean for the domestic setting of my Valleys homeland to be underwater. How would I reconcile the typical movement of a home with the motion of the water level? I think an imagined sense of motion comes easily with this sort of imagery.
There is also motion in the poem’s sense of time, and ageing. I think this is entirely the romantic in me. I tend to think of time in poetry as non-linear and fluid. I wanted the narrative voice of this poem to be shifting, changing, and moving as their relationship does. I achieved that by using non-linear actions. The voice in the poem is almost “navigating” the globe of their relationship, feature-spotting. They comment on their domestic life, their worries, and the perpetually moving state of industry. I think the main experience I wanted to conjure was one of ceaseless movement to reflect the poem’s place.
The first-person point of view really draws me in with the use of “we” instead of “I.” How do you think perspective changes the meaning of a poem?
Perspective can be an interesting dynamic to play with. There are definite implications to the “we” in this poem, but what are they? Is this a plan? An account? A dream? Who is the “we” in question? I think perspective can help to add extra dimension – and as you mentioned, motion – to a poem that needs it. “I” can just feel a little strict and grounded to me, and I wanted another set of hands to carry the burden of this poem’s body. I do believe this poem would read differently if it was written with another set of pronouns in place of “we”, but I mostly just think using “we” makes it feel a little less lonely.
