Ben Hickman
SURFUM CAPITA SUPERFOOD
Who would willingly part
with such rose-scented unguents
it feels good to be free no you’re not
getting it from that angle and don’t
talk to me about perfectibility we all
share the same time however long
the night Sir Cliff performed
at Strangeways we do our bit and
what about the Bengal Lancers
their dashing exploits
have passed into folklore
look the wallpaper makes her happy
All you can do is say
song song song this is song
NEW TOWN, UNKNOWN KEY
Littered with eros, the first fleet was a substance
abused behind torpor, behind Ebbsfleet
International, multiple little
feet readying, labouring under misunder
standing like natural women. War here
was never declared. The valley’s logo
is an ampersand dealing green indulgence
at Les Orangeries, at no place
cried for no one. Big pylons and many,
all pricked with much metal business premier
and no truth in courage. If you see an
anarchist police from personal hotspot,
at half sodding six. And dispense illusions
of asymmetric insight. They’ll call you.
ESTUARY
Dead bodies in these marshes,
graves
looking out to Essex
We’re still here
Shingle steeple,
the road going round it
executive motoring services ltd
MG and Rover specialists, why not
Woodruff
for 6 years curate and 34 years
vicar of this parish
where he continually resided
Welkin
M45 B125
B.S. EN124
Copyright Ben Hickman 2014
Ben Hickman is a poet and critic living in Canterbury. He is
the author of John Ashbery and English Poetry (Edinburgh, 2012), and Lecturer
in Modern Poetry at the University of Kent. His poems and reviews have been
published in Poetry Review, Tears in the Fence, Shearsman, PN Review and
elsewhere.