Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2009


by Eden Falk

There is a gathering dust at the end of the light
A curl of dirt is caught in the air
Like a hurricane, without the wind to force it
Into the strength that it wishes to whisper
She rocks a painted head of me in her arms
Her sallow arms
Holding my head on a lute
The snakes at her heel
Coiling and calling
Forcing her to flinch 
How did it become that I was the instrument
That she strummed.

I play a sad song
It goes like this
And this and this and this
The singing stones
The sky a shaky stream
The stream a static sky
I played a constant tone that calls out


Such a simple name
The words and rhythm complete it
And make it house held
I looked back
A mirror
Full of dirt and rocks 
My head on a stone

The first words of kindness
Forming on my lips

Added: 18.04.2009