Poem - MAG Poetry Prize 2010

Work

by Frances Borden
Devon, UK

Every grasped clinch
of concentration
only lasts a minute
before loosening off
and drifting
along with time again.
Don't expect to reside there
in that nook,
to assume the shape of your work.
But what else is there?
I never had a coat
so fitting or sharp,
sympathetic to the curve of my nerves,
no deal that worked as well as that.

Added: 30.04.2010

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