February 2011

Little words

The tip of his tongue
Throbbed like a neon sign
Above a cheap hotel,
Red as an alpine strawberry
Seeded with words not said.
Jammed at the back of his mouth
Were phrases like:
Of course I do.
Do I need to tell you?
It’s deeds not words count.
Cleaved to the roof of his mouth:
I’m just a bloke,
I don’t have to say it.
Don’t push me.
The words that would have stopped
Her checking out, stuck in his throat.
Never made it past
The tip of his tongue.

Forthcoming events
International Women’s Week workshop

Saturday 12th March
a poetry workshop with Emma Purshouse and Jane Seabourne

Bradmore Community Centre

1.00 –3.00
£6.00 (£4.00 with concessions)
contact Emma or Jane for a place

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