Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2009


by Joan Elliott

I can't let you go, crescent scar,
dimpled imprint; potato masher.
I can't let you go, staved-in clump,
stretch-mark glow, chibbed-up favourite.
Far corner singed; Christmas fondue.
Scored whole your body; raggedy-edged Transformer,
I can't let you go. Black smudged patch;
size 2's fever-polished, parched tongues lolling, gasping. 
The cross-cross web of scraping studs my ice-rink valentine.
On your belly, genetics;
scribbled, scrawled, written, chiselled; Max!
in felt-tip requiem.
I can't let you go.
Rickety chair,
cracked front tooth,
blood red patchwork stare
I sit on you: but,
I can't let you go.
Serrated edge,
time worn smooth,
the rasp and clunk of 501's
stripping my french-polish,
on the y-axis;
bleaching me ashen

I can't let you go.

Added: 19.03.2009