Joint Winner of the Letter Review Prize for Poetry
i. In the field,
light cuts across my palms
and draws nothing
but a new shadow. A gift
mistaken for darkness.
ii. In a poem
you can be anything
but a better
son.
iii. Half a country away,
I carry your name –
a hummingbird
sleeping
between my palms.
iv. You never taught me
how to suffer, mother.
Which is to say
I still don’t have your strength.
v. Once, I didn’t come home
for two weeks
because I didn’t want you
to see the bruises. The razors
marking my arms.
vi. I have never wanted you
to know how little
I cared for the body you made.
The body you carried.
vii. For a while, it was just me
and you.
Nobody teaches you
the cost of truth, mother.
But you showed me the value
viii. of living.
Even when the world
is suffocating.
Unpaved.
ix. A word
like love
is a guillotine, falling.
Cutting into the meaning
like it’s enough.
x. Like we can ever
describe the gratitude
for our creator.
Mother.
Blake Auden is a poet and author based in Brighton, UK. He has been featured in Forbes, Metro, The Bookseller, Book Riot, The Economic Times, Sussex Life, Coast Magazine, The Mirror and scores of others. He is a winner of the Button Poetry Short Form Prize, and the judge for the The Moth 2023 Poetry Prize.
Original Artwork Supplied by Art Director Kita Das