POETRY

The Bramley

By

Only the English would breed such an apple,
so sour you must smother it with sugar.
I have had enough of all those women's pastry,
light as wheedling, blackmail in the butter,
their sugar hissed to hide all that is tart.

Give me Coxes. Give me Worcesters,
rosy, self-sweet. Let feet go shocked
back to the orchard grass, back to the start.

Alison Brackenbury was born in 1953, and is descended from a long line of British shepherds and farmworkers. She may be Britain's only poet in a boiler suit, as she has worked for over twenty years in her husband's family metal-finishing business. Her most recent collection is Singing in the Dark, Carcanet, 2008. Her eighth collection, Then, is due to be published by Carcanet in April 2013.

Alison is extremely interested in poetry on the Internet. She publishes new poems via her blog at www.alisonbrackenbury.co.uk, and via her Facebook Group, called Poems from Alison.

Only the English would breed such an apple,
so sour you must smother it with sugar.
I have had enough of all those women's pastry,
light as wheedling, blackmail in the butter,
their sugar hissed to hide all that is tart.