CHRISTIAN WARD

 

Impermanence

The moon hides

like a sasquatch 

in all my photos.

Don't lecture me 

on the permanence 

of love when cups

break every time 

you do the washing up.

The Pause

Time should have stopped when my wife 

told me she wanted a divorce. The block of flats

might have become still like an unshaken snowglobe.

I could have plucked the horse chestnut tree’s 

napkin leaves thrown in sympathy, settled the cats

arranging themselves into yoga positions at the shock,

played table tennis with the impromptu hail. Distracted

myself with a garden that returned only cherry pits,

turned the nosy neighbour’s hair into a Bonsai,

hid myself in the old world war two shelter as empty 

as the scooped out pomegranates we had for hearts,

watched the seeds manifest themselves into boxes

full of moth-eaten memories, a clock gnawing itself 

right down to the bone, a life spitting out the match

having long drank the petrol until it was giddy.

It didn't, and I was left only with the dramatic pause,

the empty stairs going nowhere.

Notes On A Rude Man 

Who Thought It Was Okay 

To Barge Into People 

A sugar cube of a moon

is the only suggestion 

for a carrot-thin man 

neighing after fields

lost in dreams.

How to be thin, rich and beautiful 

Mukbang mountains. Go all in

on forests. Slurp rivers and lakes 

until you're a fountain spouting trout.

Inhale sky. The ideal shade of blue 

has been considered by dietary experts.

Chew the tablecloth of stars

and be mindful of the sun searing 

your tongue.

The wafer of a full moon is yours to enjoy.

Any other effects 

are on the house.

CHRISTIAN WARD

CHRISTIAN WARD is a UK-based poet with two collections, Intermission and Zoo, available on Amazon and elsewhere: His work has appeared in numerous literary journals and was longlisted for the 2023 National Poetry Competition (UK) and recognised this year in the Ware, Bridport, Maria Edgeworth, Pen to Print, London Independent Story and Shahidah Janjua poetry competitions.