Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011

Meet Ana

by Antonia Kirby

These secret thoughts re-emerge,
between morn and nigh -
a sip, a bite, a sigh;
The urgency to purge
myself of thoughts and things
that seize, that rot, that eat
from my ankles and feet first;
movement limiting...
Undergarments wet with no control
of muscles long since passed.
So young yet so frail… but at last:
that extra pound is gone.
So debilitating! My legs did once
work I’m sure…I know…I think?
Quick, pull me back from the brink…
Whoops, there it goes.
There goes what’s left of
the candy floss that’s in my head.
Too weak to crawl from floor to bed
but need my bone upon the soft
mattress – to cushion the grinding
of my hips upon the floorboards.
The pangs are swarming in, in hoards:
one mistake, eternally binding.
Antonia Sampson-Dampier © 15th November 2009

Added: 14.12.2010

Judges' comments on this poem


I find the phrase 'between morn and nigh' rather archaic and put me off the poem