Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011

Gathering daylight

by Lisa Hitchen

I gather daylight in the small hours.
Into a bag it goes, in pieces.
 
Uncertain but clean as ginger
- the first I’ve got.
 
Later I’ll spread it out,
leave it to lie or to wander.
 
These pieces vibrate colour,
security. I breathe them in.
 
The daylight now fills my bag.
It fills the space between us.
 
Once, I spread my pieces
for you to unpick.
 
But the edges turned
ragged and shrunk.
 
In the end I couldn’t see 
my own way.
 
You left sodden badges
on my bag. Now they’re gone
 
and when you’re around,
I always keep a hand on its neck.

Added: 26.04.2011

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