Black earth woods
there is a man
in the woodpile.
wearing the uniform
of the ordinary.
a hat and a belt.
Rolled in wood,
the cold metal of the car boot
is pressed into my mulchy flesh.
I bark.
I can do it,
if you ask.
Stacked bark,
bark is my resistance.
I bark, bark.
The miserable damp wood bark is
squashed under the logs
that are held together by chains.
The sludge at
the bottom of the pyramid
of murdered trees.
A feasting pool for
forest debris.
A chain across my back.
A man in a hat.
He barks back
Becky Nuttall creates a coalescence of allegorical art and concepts. Her poetry and artwork references the nature and implications of theology, religious violence, guilt, piety, art history, feminism, popular culture and conformity – defining and considering how these are interpreted in adolescence