The Cobbles Outside Brasenose College

 The Cobbles Outside Brasenose College

You are the rainbow sheen

of the ink from a black ballpoint pen 

laid out on the paper.

I am the light from the torch that dances 

off falling drops of rain. 

They look like snowflakes

except not as cold.

And not as beautiful.

You are the majesty of the night that sits around 

the shoulders of buildings.

I am the crumbling 

of sandstone beneath fingertips.

You are the crisp white fibres of a cotton shirt

lined up

like soldiers waiting to go home.

I am the breeze that slips in between cardigans:

the breach in the barrier that cannot be identified. 

Least of all by me; and

it is my body.

You are a degree, a title. 

Enshrined in the historic register of 

wasted days.

I am all the books you didn't read

but should have done.

——————

This is the first poem I wrote in Oxford. It’s based on a series of conversations I had with a friend, about our preconceptions of Oxford and the reality when we arrived. People reading this poem often think I’m saying I don’t like Oxford, or my studies, but actually quite the opposite. The poem is about the daily detail being more important than the big picture.

This poem placed first in the George Series Prize 2017.