Last month's poem of the month writer, Sally Jenkinson, has chosen this month's poem. Sally says, "It feels pretty ridiculous for little me to be trying to decide which poem of a lot of brilliant poems is the brilliant-est, so I just picked the one I genuinely like best! Find out more about Helen and her work at http://writeoutloud.net/poets/helenshay LETTING-GO She doesn’t cling anymore. That sweaty, grimy, too-young-to-have-a-wrist fist, that clenched its red need - staining into my arm – has loosened. Instead, a cooler hand touches mine. Still the dirt of play beneath those nails, but they ae painted each a different colour, by fingers, eager to experiment with bottles and jars. (MY bottles and jars). Soon that hand will let go. She’ll have her own varnish, and shall silver each full-grown nail with brush strokes, sluicing with sparkle. Then she’ll fleck her fingers out to dry - like a wave goodbye.