Immortal
If I was
immortal,
I'd keep it to
myself.
Avoid my heart
doing countless
tricks,
while my head
was sawn in half
watching
everything I knew
go back inside
the top hat,
never to emerge
again.
Opposites
Your heart is a
Martian
scouting
invasion grounds;
where to
pillage, where
to plunder.
Mine is the
quiet corner
of a sleepy
county,
dozing off to a
moon
as gentle as
cattle;
unaware of your
plans,
whatever you're
thinking
of transforming
me into.
My Father's Love
As An Espresso
Always bitter.
Bitter, bitter,
bitter.
Dark like the
night sky
above the opened
warehouse of an
untrodden
field spilling
its goods.
Longing for the
hot milk,
enough sugar to
cleanse
the palette,
whatever water
might soothe.
My Father's Love
As A Novelty Bottle Opener
A lobster
dressed in a top
hat
and tails. One
laugh and you're
forced
to stare at it
for a lifetime.
Look
how the kitchen
tap
drips away from
it,
how the sun
refuses
to touch the
trinket.
CHRISTIAN WARD
CHRISTIAN WARD is a UK-based poet,
with recent work in Streetcake Magazine, The Madrid Review, The Amsterdam
Quarterly, Mugwort Magazine and The Alchemy Spoon. New work is forthcoming in
Clarion, Drawn to the Light Press and The 4Faced Liar. Two collections
available on Amazon and elsewhere: Intermission and Zoo.
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