Hovercraft as a verb
for Gillian Clarke
Why not a little nature poetry?
I could name breezeblocks
along the A30.
I know what it means for wavelets
to break across and over the border
of Cornwall and Devon.
Our words are going to bear children
and burden them with souls
they’ll never fully understand.
I am two migraines away from
appreciating sirens, and two stanzas
from calling it quits.
Candy Pop
I am writing to you in the hopes you may consider stabbing me,
somewhere easy enough to penetrate,
somewhere the hydraulics can leak out
like steam in a microwave.
I have yet to survive a heart attack,
or survive being bitten by a dog,
but that can change with enough kibble and some gusto.
Our cat has stopped believing in miracles.
I worry it'll be doing her more harm than good,
what's life without the magic of feline recidivism,
the clenched mouse seizing between the teeth,
a stray gallbladder left behind.
It is in the stray miraculous that we find
the remedy to survival, the torniquet
over the wound, underneath a final
will and testament to survival.
I'm writing this from the centre
of a lollipop, if you are reading
this it’s already too late.
__________
Aaron Kent is an award-winning poet and publisher from Cornwall, though he currently lives in Wales with his wife, Emma and their two young children. Aaron is a working-class writer, and particularly wants to advocate for more working-class voices in literature. He had several poetry pamphlets published, his debut collection, Angels the Size of Houses, is available from Shearsman Books, and his 2nd collection, The Working Classic, is available with the87press.
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