Longlisted Poem 2014
Watford Grammar School for Girls, Hertfordshire
On days when the fog bled,
we envied the ash fish who could breathe
great bubbles of cyanide,
and smirk through samovars.
We existed in the blank spaces
between the lines.
Banished to white page corners.
Carving identities from the digits
etched into the canvass of our skin.
Whittled sweet nothings
into the hollows of our bones.
Languished in muslin sheets,
trickling gossamer sweat
until our movements mimicked
the churning of the stars.
Whispers, from volatile effluences
informed us of the outside welt. But
when the frost thawed,
the others became tundra.
Then the only whispers we welcomed
were of steel escape routes
forged by our doppelgangers
back when we were Vulcan.
Later they were found soaked in blood.
Still we obeyed, set the last blurt of truth
alight. Played Simon’s game,
dropped our robes in Dalstroy
Metamorphosed into burnt-outs ourselves,
bleating for Berzin.
They once showed our faces.
Warped, wanton, on posters that shone
under streetlights, toiling for our master,
bequeathed by concrete sky with
chisels, conjoined like tar to our hips
in watered down substitutes of the life
that had once swung from them.
Worshipped our human sun
until the day he turned dark.
They expected us to cry; we laughed.
© Kajol Marathe
- Date February 10, 2015
- Tags 2014 News - Longlisted Poems