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Where I’d Watch Plastic Trees Not Grow

Written by Hannah Hodgson

'Iā€™m a widower grieving herself. / My stem still living / while all the petals have died; / my body has begun to droop.ā€™

Hannah has taken her regular hospitalisations due to serious illness and made it into astonishing poetry. Her world of the hospital is sometimes like a zoo, sometimes like a gallery and sometimes a crowded town square. The wards contain tigers and crows, butterflies ā€“ doctors become poets, the dead turn into an art installation, while outside, the trees are plastic.

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