This poem has won the prestigious UK Arvon Poetry Competition. It seems to be about the abortion and hospital-grave burial of a child identified with the extra chromosone that causes Down’s Syndrome.
I’ve read it a few times and I think it’s pretty good. And brave. A hard poem to write, still harder to live.
I might say more about it soon. A quick section from the poem –
…My darling, sleep well in your bed.
Don’t come out on the landing where it’s cold
because, you see, I won’t come home
in my long dress and necklace
and blow you kisses up the stairs.
I won’t carry you back to bed
to rub your blue feet better
or fetch blankets from the box.
No, you don’t need a bottle, cuddle,
special rabbit, teddy, bit of cloth.
You don’t even need to close your eyes.
They were born that way, sealed shut…