Where new writing finds its voice


Luke Kennard

The house is a giant aluminium tray.
There’s a dried yellow residue on the walls,
A lingering smell of garlic. However,
The surface is so easy to clean —
And provided the next bus doesn’t whip
The whole place away in its backdraft, I’m
Heading into town to buy some Sheen.
It conducts heat. I put on the immersion
And within minutes I can’t even touch the walls.
Also I’ve got plans to put in a partition just there —
Because essentially it’s a buy-to-let;
I’ll be the live-in landlord. I’m looking for a young
Professional couple or a trainee journalist.
Or just anyone who doesn’t mind me
Taping myself screaming through the night.