THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.

Weaving yourself in the warp and weft of life

listening to the tick of your heart

that jumps, lies low or races

with the temperature of consciousness

which plucks, picks and pulls with enzymes

that teach you elementary instincts.

It's a pity that what you love

always escapes the fever of passion

or that dies by the sword of reason,

or how'd I miss her lips

by the breadth of a strand

while the will remained a passive observer.

It should in reality be a pilgrimage

each minute as you fill life to the brink

with sordid liquids and lumpy solids

that send you down like an anchor in deep sea

fixing you like a massive log

that cannot float nor drown.