Colin Bancroft





I swaddled the bulbs in newspaper
And placed them on the shelf to keep them cool
Over the winter, out of the frost
That this morning spit shined the roof of the shed.

Wrapped safely in the blackbird dark
They wait for some switch in temperature,
Some new angle of light to peel back
A memory lost somewhere in their fist of colour.

The borders are empty, small craters cup
In prayer the patch from where they were removed.
Sparrows scavenge the map blanked shallows,
Pulling up worms, unthreading a jumper.



Colin Bancroft works as an English Lecturer at a College in the North-East. He has previously had poems published in Acumen, Agenda, Ariadne’s Thread, Black Light Engine Room, Broken Wine, Cannon’s Mouth, The Copperfield Review, Elbow Room, LondonGrip, Message in a Bottle, Neon, Rockland and ScreechOwl. He has also been shortlisted for both the Manchester Bridgewater Prize and the New Holland Press competition.

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