THE FROGMORE POETRY PRIZE 2015

Sarah Barr

JANUARY

This time I’m taking more notice –
the sandbags, submerged fields,
flooded crypt, the marooned town.

There’s more water than the land
can use, or the skies hold.

Perhaps it’s natural
to shiver with excitement
at this odd reflective world.

A swan wings upward, abandons
 its mirror-image on the bright lagoon.

Are there going to be two
of everything, including me?

I think about new surfaces
and new below-the-surfaces.



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