Madder

leaves, star-like, make a
skin rash, but worse
in hard water when
the roots, rich in
alizarin, are most
coveted, pencil
thick, sliced and
simmer to produce
the sinister red
coats of the
British Army

Woad

glabrous and golden
on the face of the
squeezed shore as far
as Constantinople
ancient water
routes cut into small
chunks, ferment
and stir to yield
through the strainer
an indigo, three
teaspoons of soda ash
then sold to build
a mansion in Toulouse

from the fields

bird’s-foot trefoil
before I left
and hogweed found
on the verges
holding hands
and shared a Mars Bar
close by the A14
ringlets waver
over the bramble
later I talk to
is this butter-and-eggs
were a long-term
friend and smoked
a roll-up when
I sang in the small
flint church for joy
and for sorrow
and loved in all his joys

Adam Warne was born in Suffolk in 1988 and has lived there most of his life. He has an MA in Creative Writing from the University of East Anglia and is currently working towards a PhD at the University of Roehampton. His pamphlet Suffolk Bang was published by Gatehouse Press in 2018.