by Aaron Kent
There are borders in blue, chalked for patients
in wait. The mess is allergenic, weighted in grass,
sculpted broomsticks, and I sit uncertain of sharing.
Too many words, too many words.
Fifty five draws a circle – three quarters green,
a bold blackened patch where I duvet. I reach
for the hoover and pretend to glue my earphones
onto the minutes.
Seventy stirs their tea with shattered glass, probes
the milky layer with their newborn finger. Always
test temperature with an elbow, especially when
decorating the room to look like
a meeting for unhinged businessmen. I don’t take milk,
let the leaves settle into my veins and swear luminous
that all will be nettled if we just learn to walk infirmly
into a routine of infinity.
[Aaron Kent is a poet from Cornwall, UK. He has recently had an art-verse-novella released through zimZalla titled Subsequent Death, and a pamphlet titled Tertiary Colours which will be released via Knives, Forks, and Spoons. His first full collection, Blood Fjord ’89, is due for release in mid-2018. He is also in talks to release a collection on vinyl record, and a non-fiction book about the Godzilla film series. He also runs the Saboteur Award longlisted site Poetic Interviews, where he interviews poets using poetry. Those taking part so far include James Franco, Phillip B. Williams, Safia Elhillo, Luke Kennard, Max Wallis, Jeff Alessandrelli, and Melissa Lee-Houghton, among others. He is also a poetry and film lecturer, and his wife gave birth to their first child in July.]