4th Prize – Rebecca J Smithson with:

The Language of Toddlers

Blake is two. He speaks,
but mostly he savours the simple joy
of stretching a syllable over his tongue
and popping it like bubblegum
between his teeth.

He swills letters around his mouth
like soup, until slide becomes sloyk
and Julie is Looly-dooby
and sense is secondary
to the pleasure
of feeling chhh and ploish and blump
hugging the inside of his cheek.

His sentences are flung high
and left suspended,
half-completed riddles we must solve
in tiny backwards steps
without his help.

He is quickly thwarted
by Big People Talk,
where words have the rapid succession
of reciprocal gunfire.
All clauses must have verbs
all questions an answer
and if it means nothing –
don’t say it.

When Blake turns three,
he’ll understand
about being understood,
and will swap the texture
of the alphabet
for clarity of expression.

Listening now
and knowing this
is perhaps the saddest thing of all.