The Naked ‘I’

by Lizzie Searle

Every day I sport a cloak,
A cloak I wear but do not own.
I fashioned it from want and smoke
And it clothes each frail bone.

And with that cloak of smoke and blight,
I wear a heart pinned to my cuff.
Only to remove at night
That sad and desperate double bluff.

And once my heart is stowed away,
I bow my head towards my chest
To find the cards I keep by day
So very close against my breast.

I lie naked then by night,
Without my cloak and heart and cards.
My bones lie scattered, dead and white
In fine and helpless little shards.

And then I cannot help but see
(With a secret, creeping kind of dread)
The very things that make me, me
Lie crumpled up beside my bed.

The Poor Print

The Poor Print is Oriel College's student newspaper, with contributions from across the JCR, MCR, SCR, and staff. Our current Executive Editors are Siddiq Islam and Jerric Chong.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s