by Christian Ward
I mistook some sea monkeys for my house keys and ended with a revolt in my pocket. I mistook a barn owl for my wallet and received ossified pellets in exchange for credit card points. I mistook a glasswing butterfly for my glasses and an overwhelming desire for nectar lifted me off the ground. I mistook the ocean for my oyster card and a tidal wave knocked on my bedroom window, asking for its pearls back. Among other things, I mistook marriage for a funeral pyre, love for a ticking pomegranate, grief for a pelt of rain, and a cuttlefish for poetry. I once mistook dreaming for an uncaught trout and an entire river rushed through me when I woke. Christian Ward is a UK-based poet, with recent work in Southword, Ragaire, Okay Donkey, and Roi Faineant. Longlisted for the 2023 National Poetry Competition (UK), he won a number of competitions in 2024, including the Maria Edgeworth, Pen to Print, London Independent Story Prize and the Shahidah Janjua Poetry Competition.
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