Jude Goodwin, Canadian Poet

Jude Goodwin

She uses the personal to translate the universal.

Wax Paper

Wax Paper

Wax Paper by Jude Goodwin

I wake to the groan of your rising,
your morning rendezvous
with the edge of the bed,
head in hand. On your back our wedding quilt
has left a mark. I close my eyes, roll
them up and up until they ache,
until the shower
(eager) opens its wet hot throat for you.
I watch your shape concealed
by steam and dream
of turquoise, a radio
playing toothpaste jingles while someone's mother
butters 20 slices of white bread and wraps them in wax
paper. The coffee starts to perk. I think about years,
how they can make a place thicken, spread
their patina over
and over the wood. When you and the smell
of your soaps and slathering
foams return to our room, I don't move.
Let the darkness fake sleep,
let the bright bathroom be love. You leave,
of course. I slide over
to your pillow, lie in the crease of you.
Somewhere, the baby
stirs in her crib.


Of the 12 poems shortlisted, this one alone seems to have a positive take on domesticity and the day-to dayness of life. The woman is luxuriating in simply turning over in bed and watching her man shower and ready himself. There is a confident celebratory, sensuous note and the poem's finish is lovely. "I slide over to your pillow, lie in the crease of you" is wonderful. Well done!  Micheal O'Siadhail, September 2005

The Chewer

The Chewer

Lost: Little Girl

Lost: Little Girl