Untitled Document

Revising Drafts

She was in at the beginning.
My first draft emerged
like a snail from its shell under her bright bird eyes.
I wrote for her sitting touched by her shadow
in the patch of warmth we had left in our duvet.

She deleted
pecking the paper with red ink.
She taught - some things are scaffolding.
They are only aids to get started.
She enjoyed picking threads, unravelling cloth
pursuing a frayed strand across a bright surface.

I followed her fingers. I watched them editing
my underpants, my socks
my friends from my diary
slowly but surely she took me apart
winding me up into neat balls of twine.

My second draft came slowly, emerging like a bruise
I had been forced into recognising mistakes.
I parroted

Does that have to be kept?

I wrote on and realised that I was not writing a romance.

She was in at the beginning
but she hasn't stayed to the end.
I will enjoy deleting her completely from my final draft.

Return to Poetry Homepage

Website http://www.gavinstewart.net
E-mail: Send an e-mail to the author