Issue 16: Adam Hampton

Minefield, Afghanistan, 2008

      Mother, burn

Within our keep          urinous candles

Who dunked their digit

through the icing

on my birthday cake?

Who extinguished half

my candles, hijacked

my Jolly Good Fellow?

Flies turn their

     sucking   noses   up

at my fatted calves



Soak my lenses in formaldehyde

     Preserve me

     My facsimile


Language Games

The tip of the tongue is a butler

Six O’clock sickle drips with info

Trims collocations into forkfuls

Of palatable report

The tip of the tongue is a swindler

Flesh speaks without words

Displays its inner complexion

At the bullet’s ripping charge

Adam Hampton is a poet and postgraduate student of Creative Writing at Edge Hill University. A former Royal Marines Commando, his work explores, amongst many other themes, global conflict, with an emphasis on literary innovation and concrete techniques. His poems have been published at the blogzine M58, in the magazines IKLEFTIKO and Three and a half point 9, and on the blog of Robert Sheppard, Pages. He resides in Southport with his wife and daughter.


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