Originally from Merseyside, Alan moved to Oxford in the eighties to study English Literature and has lived there ever since. Among other things, he has worked as a forklift truck driver, a psychotherapist, and a poet in residence at a prison. His first pamphlet Shiver (published by tall-lighthouse) was the Poetry Book Society pamphlet choice for summer 2009. He has recently received an Arts Council writer’s grant, and is working towards a first collection.

Peaches

Truly, they’re God’s own fruit, glowing
like little suns. We name their juice nectar:
apples and pears can’t rival their tender
beauty. And yet they struggle, don’t know

how to handle the market’s jostle. They keep
to themselves, try and avoid the mêlée
of bruising fingers; then, a careless nail
nicks the velvety blush, leaves them weeping.

No wonder so many evolve, adapt.
Their view is opaque, tightly curved.
We knock on the tin; perhaps they’re asleep?

They can’t be touched: in their dark world
they sit motionless, doped with syrup,
not sure if they’re hiding or trapped.