The first of these poems responds and reacts to Pablo Neruda's famously sensual, organic metaphors for women. The second is a riddling meditation on the many dialect names for one of poetry's most iconic birds

Reddick, Yvonne

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ArticlePoems: 'Chillan Fruit Basket for Pablo' and 'Names for the Standgale'Reddick, YvonneAvailable at http://clok.uclan.ac.uk/11496/Reddick, Yvonne (2015) Poems: 'Chillan Fruit Basket for Pablo' and 'Names for the Standgale'. Tears in the Fence, 61 . pp. 68-69.  It is advisable to refer to the publisher’s version if you intend to cite from the work.For more information about UCLan’s research in this area go to http://www.uclan.ac.uk/researchgroups/ and search for <name of research Group>.For information about Research generally at UCLan please go to http://www.uclan.ac.uk/research/ All outputs in CLoK are protected by Intellectual Property Rights law, includingCopyright law.  Copyright, IPR and Moral Rights for the works on this site are retained by the individual authors and/or other copyright owners. Terms and conditions for use of this material are defined in the http://clok.uclan.ac.uk/policies/CLoKCentral Lancashire online Knowledgewww.clok.uclan.ac.ukYvonne Reddick Poems forthcoming in Tears in the Fence 61, pp. 68-69. Chillán Fruit Basket for Pablo   Full woman, carnal apple, warm moon, thick smell of seaweed –  and you, Neruda, what primal fruit are you hiding?  Come on, women are Mississippis of apples, not ancient nights. Your affairs scorched,  a flash in the dark. Mine strike taproots, unfurl the years till their branches fill continents.  My man sleeps, curled alone in his den of dusk. I kiss a faltering path through soft animal smells  to the citrus tang of his mouth. He’s awkward as a scruffy chestnut  so I steal your inkwell, your trick of writing in green,  and he rouses to the feel of feeling skin. Flesh smelts to flesh, skin welds to tongue –  till the sun ignites its dawn peach.  When its singed core cools I’ll let it sprout and root an orchard. We’ll bicker as our gnarled hands prune and pick but we’ll wreathe close as a pleached thicket.  Keep your cellular grapes, submarine figs, Pre-publication version Yvonne Reddick Poems forthcoming in Tears in the Fence 61, pp. 68-69. rotten carnal apples. Leave me some pips.   Pre-publication version Yvonne Reddick Poems forthcoming in Tears in the Fence 61, pp. 68-69. Names for the Standgale  She’s Windfucker when she elbows a breeze that sizzles in her feathers.  She’s Stonegall hunched in a hard-frozen sycamore. Face to the wind, she’s Standgale.  In the sparrow’s eye she’s Staniel, poised  to stoop, accelerate, clutch and gripe –  she whirls in wingovers, overmasters winnowing winds, she swirls on a creance. The crinkling bells on each bewit  call her Crécerelle.  When her talons clutch my gauntlet, she’s Kestrel, fine-boned and weightless on my wrist.   Pre-publication version Yvonne Reddick Poems forthcoming in Tears in the Fence 61, pp. 68-69.  Pre-publication version 

Poems: 'Chillan Fruit Basket for Pablo' and 'Names for the Standgale'

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