by Christian Ward
Someone has ripped out
the stuffing from a duvet
and glued it to the sky.
Every sleepless night
stiffens the hairs on my arms,
points them skyward.
I have accumulated
an armada of rockets
ready to kidnap the moon
and hold it to ransom.
Thankfully, I have the best
of excuses: sleep deprivation
from lousy neighbours,
their voices stuck in the command
control in my head, pinned
to the ceramic walls with unnatural
gravity
© Christian Ward
Christian Ward (he/him) is a UK-based poet with recent work in Dust, Free the Verse, Loch Raven Review, Cider Press Review and elsewhere. He won the first 2024 London Independent Story Prize for poetry and the 2024 Maria Edgeworth Festival Poetry Competition.
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