Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011

She's Gone Out

by Hazel Mutch

The house fades
between half lit streetlight
fizzling into half dark sky.
Her yellow blind shines
with reckless bulbs still
burning.  In her bright room
cast off shoes and scarves
dazzle on the floor.
The town is divided by its lights;
subdued curtains conceal worries
flickering over distant strobes
and a cold blue pulse.
Her bed is brilliant with mirrors
magazines and orange peel,
bangles, lip gloss and a strong                       
copper hair curling in her comb.
Cities send out beams
to the small lights on the planet
but cannot get through all
the dark.  There is a little hole
to mend in the sleeve of her shirt
still warm and with its smell
of young sweat and soap
clinging to the seam.                                                 

Added: 26.04.2011

Judges' comments on this poem


Lovely and moving, reminded me of Dorianne Laux's Girl in the Doorway