Longlisted Poem 2014
Coundon Court School, Coventry
The News is Imprinted in Her Blood
The news is imprinted in her blood;
The ink has sunk through her fingers,
The sweat of the job.
She sets out through the iron gates
Up the hill to the first house on the corner,
The trolley catching her heels
Until they are as sore
As the sun when the moon rises.
The imprint of today’s headline
Blackens the tips of her fingers, and her cheeks,
if she’s not careful, which she never is.
She is the middle girl,
Making platonic passes at letterboxes,
Gateways to warm, hallowed homes,
Waiting for the dog behind the door
To devour the news.
They’ll know whether City’s won
Or who’s died while driving,
Too fast, too drunk.
So, she is glad to be with the sun,
Bright on her moon-pale skin;
The open residential road,
On her way home,
She knows the secrets that lie outside their doors:
That utopia is actually cold and clinical,
That someone’s number might be up.
© Mollie Davidson
- Date February 10, 2015
- Tags 2014 News - Longlisted Poems