David Duckenfield by Aaron Kent


All the watchmen: from gatekeepers of valhalla
To vanguards whipping batons on iron
Vesitbules. Squeeze 'em dry.

Block out the sun, the scum festered leeches,
Duct tape its sores and blister every
Whiskey red parasitic nose.

They clamberin' for us parchment paper crisp
Warrants for warrens. Like a blanched
Hare they're loosenin’ your

Flesh, primin’ the sickle, callin’ glory to the
Landlords, to the rent due for walkin’
streets laden with every ounce

Of potential. An excuse is how they play a deck
Bone-heavy with Kings, how they whip
Rib kick spur burn nib to paper -

In every ink pad rests the story of a labyrinth
Tree-ring cultivated journey breakin’
It's own fingers in rapture.

It's how they tell it, how they strike the punchline
Like a match to the ladybug's home.
Fly away, fly away,

Your children are gone.

Aaron Kent is a working class poet and publisher born and raised in Cornwall. He runs Broken Sleep Books and has had several pamphlets released. J H Prynne called his poetry 'Unicorn flavoured' and how do you top that?

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