You
have carapaced your soul,
grown spines from hair follicles,
wetsuited heart.
...
Still, I will tell you what I have learned
though you will scoff,
left half of upper lip jerk up
as if my words had hooked you there;
you will
tighten the scorn you drape, scarf-like
about your neck,
prepare another endless layer of defence
against that persistent pea, princess.
Yet, I will
still speak
because I know something deep will be listening
and all your bullying banter
would come loose in my hand, should I care
to grasp you by tail feathers.
YOU ARE READING
Borealis Love
PoetryLove - what does that word mean, what does it comprise? Do we always recognise it when faced with it? Do we value it when we ought to do so? Do we squander it when it is too easily given? Do we ever understand until it has left us and we are left to...
