Listen to the world’s best poetry read out loud.

Long and complex on the palate 

rage attacks the tastebuds, 

a territorial robin whose wings 

coruscate the epiglottis, insidious 

as rust in a cut.  Her jaw 

has started to clamp.  Remembering 

is a port wine stain. 

       Similes are useless 

on this red staircase 

that ascends: 

an upside down madder root 

feeling its way to the sky. 

She has become a connoisseur 

of its avoided flavours’  Titian hues. 

The nose has notes of cherry soda, 

ginger biscuit, sang de bouef. 

This is one for laying down: 

it will keep for years under the earth.