2 of 2 people found the following review helpful
"He likes things" declares Polly Clark, speaking of "The Poetry God". He does, indeed; he likes what is tangible, what speaks to the senses and forms a picture in the mind. At least, the one I believe in does, and he must have found plenty to like in Clark's second collection. The wet lips of a mule, the octopus "like a ruined balloon", the plane moving slowly "like an ice cube [...] drifting through a long, clear gin". A male student once asked me plaintively "why do all poems have to be about relationships?" I don't think he would have minded the fact that many of these are, because their eye turns outwards, finding in the world around them likenesses to illustrate their mystery, like the unsettlingly compliant, subservient rays that keep being thrown back into the sea and caught again, or the mule and his owner, locked in mutual dependence and resistance. The language, like the vision, is sharp, full of small surprises and leavened with humour, the "prickliness and brilliant escapes" of the hedgehog she takes for an avatar.