Poetry by Christian Ward
The safety word is arboreal
Everything whispers shelter at Kew Gardens: the Victorian jelly moulds of greenhouses cocooning mahogany and palms, a Cyprian plane huddling the wild grass, a red oak with a stepladder of bracket fungi wedged into its trunk, the church organ of a Caucasian elm, the pagoda tight like a combination lock. And there's you – a moth always chasing headlights, a mosquito lusting after the sap as a deodar frightens the green out of the grass, turning it into a pelt of snow. Some oddity beautiful in its offering, what I could never quite give you. Look how the geese refuse to tread there, their faces already heavy like stone as if cupped with the quietest of glances, the most unnecessary of love.
Christian Ward is a London-based poet with two collections, Intermission and Zoo, available on Amazon and elsewhere. His work has appeared in numerous literary journals and was longlisted for the 2023 National Poetry Competition and recognised this year in the Ware, Maria Edgeworth, Pen to Print, London Independent Story and Shahidah Janjua Poetry Competitions.