Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011

Her breath is gone

by Joanne Rigbye

Quiet sheets settle on the ground
Breaking like lead pellets.
 
The midnight revolver hangs loose in my hand
The silence is shaken by a paper jam
Too much information, not enough time to think.
 
What is paper but a shard of glass
The thin slice of a meagre death certificate
 
Nay,
Pure vile denial.
Secret safety,
 
The rose gold locket inside my bullet proof vest
Doesn’t need to worry,
Because I own the loaded gun.
 
 
Single moments that mangle maim and blind.
 
And now there’s glitter everywhere
Shrapnel of sparkles and shine
Gashed and broken
I’m Jesus in his sheet.
 

Added: 29.03.2011

Judges' comments on this poem

13.05.2011

Some nice moments

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