Books: Write It in Fire on the Sky over Salisbury Head Head Head ; Thomas Hodgkinson Reviews the Last Poetry Book of the Year

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Last Words: New Poetry for the New Century edited by Don Paterson and Jo Shapcott Picador pounds 7.99

Earlier this year, during its annual literary festival, Salisbury briefly became the poetry capital of England. Poems were displayed on beermats, in buses and on bodies. They were hung in shop windows, carved into stone and placed in the cloisters of the cathedral, dragged across the sky by aeroplanes, grown into fields and franked on the mail. It sounds like a nightmare. Luckily, the festival's director, Helen Marriage, managed to extract contributions from 89 big guns of modern poetry in English, thus giving both the festival and this anthology of the works commissioned) star quality - there are new poems by Motion, Armitage and Duffy, for example, not to mention Tobias Hill, Charles Causley and Wendy Cope.

The best of these enforce the point of the scheme by successfully grappling with their allotted medium. Wendy Cope's second "Fireworks Poem" has achieved notoriety ("Write it in fire across the night: / Some men are more or less alright"), but the first is perhaps more interesting:

Faster and faster,

They vanish into darkness:

Our years together.

Sitting snug on page 21 of Last Words, the content of this lament at the passing of time contrasts nicely with the permanence of the letters in ink. But when we picture the same words flaring up against the sky, as they did one night in Salisbury, and then "vanish(ing) into darkness", the effect is clearly different - the substance is in harmony with the format.

Similarly focused are Michael Donaghy's three short "tattoo" poems, the best of which is the third:

Copy this across your heart

And whisper what your eyes

have heard

To summon me when we're apart

This spell made flesh, this

flesh made word.

They are touching lines, and they get to grips with the commission. The problem for the festival, though, was finding someone willing to sacrifice their flesh. Donaghy might have had more luck if he'd restricted himself to couplets. There was a volunteer, I was informed, prepared to take on the whole burden, and have all three poems tattooed on her skin (I could not discover where), but she subsequently became pregnant and changed her mind. …