Chris Kerr




Routine Comedy

A wooden javelin, midway through my paunch,
lost me my life.


I somersault in a tank of boiling blood
with an arrow through my heart
pointing ‘this way up’.

The facility was installed below
Moscow’s Dante Alighieri Library
following a large endowment.

Nine floors up, and over the door
a sign says ‘Please keep
as many petals as genitals on each bed.’
Someone has crossed out ‘petals’
and put ‘razors’ instead.

One level between these two is empty
save for a thin slab of ice on the floor
scratched with ‘WATER BOARD’.


A life, midway through my shade,
will grow in the form of a dark tree.


Chris Kerr’s poems have been published or are forthcoming in Ambit, Oxford Poetry and Under the Radar. He is a trustee of Magma Poetry and has guest edited an issue of Meniscus.

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