Christian Ward

Ward is a poet of outstanding originality who has (so far) been neglected by the establishment, an unsung maverick on the British poetry scene at last available in print.

Slippage

I was not the first to try

and find the source

of her slippage of heat.

Others had fumbled

through her body lit up

like a field of lighthouses,

crouching past a tiger

inked on her left thigh,

avoiding the topiary

between her legs. Nobody

guessed it was her eyes:

a pair of leaking vents

colouring the sky infra-red

with each drop of lost desire.

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