How does a poem begin?
Sometimes it’s a line you wake up with or a phrase you’ve heard. Mostly it comes from the real world. Other times it’s a cadence, a repetition of sound. The old diesel trains made a peculiar rhythm as they built up speed, and that sound was always in my head as a child growing up beside a railway station. All you need is a word or two to start and, for me, the form emerges as I go.