Because I can’t tightrope walk, or balance upside down on one hand, or even comfortably touch my toes, I celebrate such achievements in language suspended between the wheels and shafts of poetic form, a surrogate flexibility. If I’ve written a hymn to engineering, feeling rescued and enabled by form’s strictures and articulacy, it’s been in the hope that the poems, bespoke aeronautical machines themselves and perhaps equally as improbable, just might succeed in taking off. - Sinéad Morrissey
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