picture of an object which has been ergonomically designed. But it's more than that. The sentence, outlined, states "Their perfect grips . . . asked for your fingers." There is a plea, here, a plaintive note in "asked for". We begin to see the absent human figure being sketched into the poem. This is a specific "you", an addressee, as the next two lines reveal: "You'd splay the single fronds along your cheek,/then smooth them back."from Carol Rumens: The Guardian: Poem of the week: Darts by Christina Dunhill
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