Caroline Bird: third prize Wild Flowers

I will be sober on my wedding day,
my eggs uncracked inside my creel,
my tongue sleeping in her tray.

I will lift my breast to pay
babies with their liquid meal,
I will be sober on my wedding day.

With my hands I’ll part the hay,
nest inside the golden reel,
my tongue sleeping in her tray.

I’ll dance with cows and cloying grey,
spin my grassy roulette wheel,
I will be sober on my wedding day.

I’ll crash to my knees and pray,
twist the sheets in tortured zeal,
my tongue sleeping in her tray.

Church-bells shudder on the bay,
fingered winds impel the deal:
I will be sober on my wedding day,
my tongue sleeping in her tray.



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