Carl Griffin: The mesmerizing title poem of your 2010 collection The Fever Wardsdeservedly won the Strokestown International Poetry Prize. What brought this poem about?
Padraig Rooney: An aunt who I never knew visited me in a dream. She had died in the Thirties from tuberculosis. My father brought me to see the old fever hospital in Monaghan, where I was raised, before it was pulled down some time in the Sixties. I remember a wrecking ball. But a late Fellini movie, and Tarkovsky’s movies, would also play a part in the poem’s narrative surrealism, where outside is simultaneously inside, and the past tucked inside the present. Cinematic images came together with dream memory, I suppose.