Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011
Then there’d be no need for a nervy stare
just a soft tap
on someone’s wrist.
Why can’t tears be laughter?
Daft as it sounds, it could work.
Mourners would laugh themselves silly at the graveside
and hopeless romantics could ditch the Kleenex
in favour of some special corset
before sitting down to watch a laughie.
Why can’t hate be love?
Then divorce would end in marriage
and all the tyrants and despots
on the planet
would be canonised by the Pope on Sundays.
Why can’t death be life?
so the crowd gathered
around my sister’s mini
clapped and whistled her into this world,
not stared her into the next.