Could It Just Be
Dense sensations inside a farm animal
Announce themselves
At mutant scrapyards
Wraparound bilious
Each of it good
And full of emphysema
Rat crap, debris, icing cake
Old gone-off rope
Fine stuff
Whom calm invades
Edging into some
Boat-locked febrility
That’s wearing tied boots slung
Round sixth-sense shoulders
Braced for sunsets
Over apples from the vine
Could it just be
Yet more likely
At the heart of the ash-heap
You’ll simply rattle along your
Loose piano-frisking self
Now that it’s not that what counts
About this poem
This poem is an excerpt from ‘Chimp Jus’, a series of poems created for the Stephen Cripps Bursary Award and to be published later this year.