Louisa Adjoa Parker is a writer of English and Ghanaian heritage, who has lived in the west country for most of her life. She writes poetry, fiction, Black, Asian and Minority Ethnic (BAME) history, and articles. Louisa also works as an equality, diversity and inclusion consultant, and is co-director of The Inclusion Agency.  


Louisa’s first poetry collection, Salt-sweat and Tears and pamphlet, Blinking in the Light were published by Cinnamon Press. Louisa’s work has appeared in many publications including Wasafari; Ink, Sweat & Tears; Envoi; Under the Radar; Out of Bounds (Bloodaxe); Closure (Peepal Tree Press); and New Daughters of Africa (Myriad Editions). She has been highly commended by the Forward Prize and shortlisted by the Bridport Prize. She has completed her first short story collection and is finishing her first novel.


Louisa has written books/exhibitions exploring BAME history in the south west. During 2018-2019 she was a New Talent Immersion Fellow for South West Creative Technology Network, and produced a podcast and blog telling the stories of BAME people in rural Britain today. Louisa has written for magazines including Resurgence & Ecologist Magazine; Gal-dem; Skin Deep; Black Ballad; and Media Diversified.





138 x 216mm


70 pages


£9.99 + P&P UK


ISBN 978-1-910834985












How to wear a skin


Louisa Adjoa Parker



Louisa Adjoa Parker’s latest collection is an exploration of identity. Mostly set in south west England, Parker explores themes including place, race, friendship, motherhood, love, and loss, as well as what’s happening in society today. She takes inspiration from her own story and the imagined stories of others – a boy at a train station; a woman with a tattoo – and weaves them together in her quest to understand our place in a beautiful, yet fractured world.




How to Wear a Skin asks, what does it mean to grow up mixed-race in a rural English town? As women, how do we raise our children in a hostile environment? Poignant, direct and politically articulate, Louisa Adjoa Parker is that rare poet who writes with simple, bell-like clarity, yet manages to capture the delicate nuance of the complexity around identity and place.

Karen McCarthy Woolf




Beach Huts


Next to bone-white huts

in the half-dark, where red and green lights


strung like necklaces, hang

against the sky, I want to tell the woman


with the little boy who trails behind her,

while she calls out Charlie


every now and then as though the word

will reach out, wrap itself around him


like rope; pull him close, I want to say

I lived here once, I lived here, me.






it ends like this


             he wonders why he hadn’t known

        but perhaps he did

perhaps the heart of him has always known      

             it ends like this  

        him splayed out on the sidewalk like a giant fish

beached on grey sand             as a ring of people

watch it flap its tail          watch it drowning in the air          

      it ends like this         him face-down on a bed of concrete          

his tomb             his only view of shoes and legs

listening to the voices of white men hungry for his blood

as they poke their fingers          into the soft folds of his flesh

               the grandsons of the men who strung

trees with his forebears as though they were lanterns

it ends like this           with men pressing the breath from him          

             an arm wrapped around his throat        

                           like a lover’s final embrace

         it ends like this          him choking out the words

I can’t breathe      I can’t breathe      I can’t breathe




9781910834985 Louisa Adjoa Parker amend