Eyewear is pleased to feature a new poem by Geraldine Clarkson today. Liquorice Aunt It was a liquorice aunt refused to give me if I didn’t tie my boot-lace there and then ( Oh, I shan’t! ) and it became the emblem of all that was denied, or bartered for slavery of petty sort. Ebony wheel of sweet-sucking sugar dribbling juice, prolonged for hours: St Catherine’s martyrdom, and mine.
POETRY, POLITICS, PROVOCATION AND POPULAR CULTURE SINCE 2005 - 20 YEARS AND over 10 million visits - British Library-archived