How She Wrote Your Name

by Russ Berry

First with a sparkler, a flick of the wrist
In the dark back gardens of November.
Once more with a bare heel curving the sand
At Robin Hood's Bay where ringed plovers passed.
A four inch brush ahead of the roller,
Magenta on a virgin bedroom wall.
Her first show in a white cube gallery;
The crackle and buzz of luminous tubes,
A click of a switch, your name in neon,
Light waves of love flooding the room.

Judge's Comments - Martin Malone

A poem that seriously flirted with my top 3, it's a fairly rare thing: the list poem that doesn't feel like a list poem. That this is so is really down to the skill and discrimination of the poet who beautifully develops the poem's central conceit (a good example of a well-chosen title doing a lot of good work upfront).