April Poetry Winner


Bern Butler

Like most human hearts, mine harbours secret poems,
naturally quiet and seldom seen, – hidden like tapirs.
I try to lull them from their leafy shade, with soft words
and a pen, subtle, I stupidly think, as a sharp knife.

But they will never be convinced, save by the run of
their own sweet will, to come to the watering hole,
to drink and show themselves exactly as they are,
perfectly formed, original, blinking in the sunlight