The Finalists
One of them has the sensation that her breasts need milking
though it is decades since she lactated, a green lance grows
through her, she feels skin-covered
but no more human than a yurt.
One man has started to sway. He aims and misses and his laughter
is high-pitched with altitude sickness,
for the first time since he stopped rowing his low centre of gravity
is a disadvantage, his width too soft to use as a shield.
The other smiles over and over, smiles at the camera
as if it is coming towards him down a tunnel with a knife.
When he wipes away the sweat he can’t feel his forehead or his hand.
During the firework display two people collapse and the crowd shakes
as it looks up at the black sky on fire, its mouths open and its eyelids
the texture of burnt encyclopedia.
They were promised vouchers but don’t ask,
from an excess of trust or fear of forfeit, jettisoning
familiar faces, provincial currency, buttons.
It is only as the Finalists grow weaker that they begin
to return, though when asked
1. the precise, and 2. the relative
value of coins or faces, under duress,
they can’t exactly recall.
Megan Watkins‘ poetry is published in Smiths Knoll, Brittle Star, Rhino 2011 and Fourteen Magazine and online at Sentinel and Gloom Cupboard. She studied Fine Art and is currently working with the artist Audrey Reynolds on “Udrey & Egan, an artists book of poetry and prose.”