Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011

the poem as seduction

by Bernard Brooks

if this poem
were like a key turning in the oiled lock of your flesh,
each phrase a seed drilled into fresh ploughed soil,
every line the perfect weight to tilt desires poise,
every silence like the brief eternal gap
between longing and its fulfilment,
the spoken sound like breaking waves
sculpting the soft swell and shadows
of your beached abandoned body,
the commas like tiny nimble hands that mould the soft clay
of secrets known only to yourself,
the end a curving sunlit silence
stretched between the harbours and headlands
of your gently yielding shoreline,
the afterword a rupture of infinity
through which rough tear we glimpse
times stalking shadow.

Added: 28.04.2011