The Knight

He smells Lynx-irresistible:
sweat and leather,
dirt, blood, incense,
and other people’s sweat

but when I’m angry
he smells of horse shit.

He sounds of prayers,
sword strokes,
chainmail swagger
and idle pious boasts.

He cares about his saddle
more than me. He’s not home much

and every single time
he goes off questing
I tell him not to bother
coming back.





Natalie Burdett grew up in the Black Country. She is currently studying for an MA in Creative Writing at Manchester Metropolitan University. Her poetry has appeared in MMU’s Avis Magazine.