The Real Red Riding Hood
Everything you’ve read about me is a lie:
I detest the colour red, look away
at the sight of ketchup, traffic lights
and postboxes. I like the colour blue.
Or yellow. Yellow’s good. The old woman?
I visit my Nan, who runs a B&B in Hastings,
come back stinking of the sea and vinegar.
Pets? I once befriended a fox in my garden,
fed it greenish strips of bacon studded
with bluebottles. Didn’t seem to mind.
But a fox isn’t exactly a wolf, is it now?
And reports of footage of me on the internet?
Those costumes aren’t mine. I know nothing
about special effects or make-up. I can’t
do impressions; have never been to a wood.
Listen, my name is Dave. I work in an office.
(Previously published in Bedford Square 5)
Christian Ward is a 31 year old London-based poet. He has an MA in Creative Writing from Royal Holloway and his poetry can be seen in Magma, Iota, The New Writer, Poetry Wales and The Warwick Review. He has won prizes in several competitions, including the 2010 East Riding Open Poetry Competition, Bridport and Sentinel Literary Quarterly. His poetry was short listed for a 2009 Eric Gregory Award and the 2012 Jane Martin Poetry Prize.