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