| Second Place: Aditi Machado |
 © Damir Alter Matijevic Fogread by aditi machado We thought the forest a graveyard for deer, that antlers grew into dry trees, that flesh held them back during life. Beneath us bones were sprouting roots. Beneath us love -- an immense mould; our feet on it, slipping. Above: the gossamer of twigs, germinated dead animals. In this arterial light you and I dug fog out of the earth. We played as if it were plasticine. We looked up at the science in the sky. I saw you in the market today. There were fish eyes on the floor, playing at marbles. A gentle steam blew our way, and across to the mongrel, paw in air, like a memory suspended. And you looked as a child would in his father's clothes. Rose Kelleher Comments: I always liked that joke about the blonde who thought Cheerios were donut seeds. Not because it’s funny, but because the image of a donut tree sprouting from a Cheerio is so cool. No surprise, then, that this poem delighted me from the start with its image of antlers growing into winter trees. I’d love to see an animated rendering of that. Of course this poem wasn’t the only one with striking images, and it’s hard to explain exactly what clinched it for me. Magic? I suspect that won’t satisfy the editors, so let me try again. I admire this poem for its spare grace, its gentle sonics, the way it’s surreal and yet makes perfect sense. I like that it’s affectionate and nostalgic without being sappy. I love that love is an immense, slippery mould underfoot. I love that the fish-eyes are playing childishly at marbles; of course they are. And the way the mongrel with its paw suspended in the air freezes the action like a photograph; the way steam reminds the narrator of fog, while the photograph is softened by a light gray mist; the masochistic little pang of sorrow and pleasure the poem makes me feel. This one came within a hair’s breadth of winning first place. |