This poem was Highly Commended and is on their website, which is full of intriguing poems and artwork - have a look! http://barehandscompetition2013.tumblr.com/
I’d tucked the last of our green figs
in a thermal mug in your hand luggage
with these fingers now linked
to your working hands
that fix things: locks on gates
the windsurf sail, the cistern.
They played on my skin this morning
teasing out tension
between my shoulder blades.
And your eyes that look
at all of me
and your tongue…
that time when I wept
it licked the salt from the wound.
The queue for the check-in is long.
You tell me to go but I stay.
It’s hard to find conversation.
When you reach the corner of the stairs
I text, ‘I missed you first.’