CBC1 Winner, Jackie Gorman

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    Shorn

    Pale blue eyes looking up,
    I put nitroglycerin under your tongue,
    as we watch the football and hum “Nessum Dorma”.
    I help you to shave or tie a Windsor Knot,
    each time noticing the beige circle on your cheek,
    melanoma erased by radiotherapy.

    In July, you planted a rosemary bush.
    Covered in ancient toil and sweat,
    I help you undress in the hallway.
    Closing the bathroom door, seeing you naked,
    all of you was vulnerable and shorn.
    Shivering like a cold lamb.
    My skin burnt silently and slowly.

    You looked at me awkwardly.
    I write you a poem with naked eyes.