Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

Poetry Library Southbank Centre - The Poetry Library housing the Arts Council Collection at Southbank Centre

« Previous item
Contents of this issue
Next item »

Nicola Warwick

print this page

The Iceman’s Wife

Second Light Poetry Competition 2008 COMMENDED

After seeing you off, I went back inside
to escape the early autumn chill.
I saw you melt into the morning light,
your shape fusing with the trees
at the forest edge, your arm raised
in a silent goodbye.

                                 The night before,
I’d watched you pack your bag,
your tools, the axe, bow and arrows
in their deerskin quiver. Then I’d

prepared food, strips of meat,
late summer fruit, thinking you’d be gone
just a week or so, one last journey
before the winter. To give you warmth
and comfort, I padded your shoes with grass.

                                I remember
your last words, how we both
marvelled at the earth, the bushes
laced with spiders’ webs.

Time passes slowly. Winter bites.
Perhaps you’re lying broken on the rocks,
your blood spilt and frozen.
In spring, we search the white fringes
of ice, but there’s no trace,
as if the earth has split and sucked you in.
I’m left trading favours for my keep.

                             I’m thinking of taking
another husband. I’m missing
your smell, your ways, the heat of you
beside me, your skin newly raw
from the tattoo needle.

I will weep like a good wife should,
then take a man who won’t stray,
who’ll stay by the fire and leave
travelling to the fools, a man who’ll soothe
the nightmares of you coming back as
I’m suckling another man’s child.

By summer, you’re just a memory,
a tale for the bard, slipping from me
melting like water from ice.


 

Competition judged by Gillian Clarke

Page(s) 18

Back to top