Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011

_______________________________________Tense Days

by Jörn Meyer

Salt crust on her skin
from rolling massive watermelons
across a sun-blazed inner-city square
G/old dust on her chin
from breathing poisoned gallons
of dirt and concrete-jungle air
Best days she thinks of it as fairy hair
from off the dusty purple peaches
she sells to legions of the region’s well-heeled leeches
But most days her heart feels like a rocking chair
or like an arm fired from the D-Day beaches
Then she speeds 'round crooked corners,
feeds on love apples from the candy man
Pears shape her evening for mourners
No news from old Fred Tucker, the once randy fan,
who like Andy ran a scam with his handycam
All choose, like the fat trucker, to chew gum
when the rats come through the leaking water pipes,
which penetrate the whore- or storehouse from below,
filled with wipes
of the stiky types
that tend to come and go

Added: 28.04.2011