Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2009


by Sarah Derrick

The mist cloaked nothing
but it hid a lot
Morning details huddled
from its cold damp touch
The mist was searching
sliding across the forest floor
it slithered over the fallen leaves
and slipped beneath the eaves

For a time                 it paused
                               And there it                   found me      
I was colder than the mist
I had never wanted to see
It recoiled from my touch
Hard and wild not free
It clutched at my throat
Sliced through my breast
Hiding my breath enveloping me
Required it moved on
The mist was not harmful
As the details had feared
Its moist warmth grasped
in passing                   it                       warmed me

Added: 30.04.2009