National Poetry Day

Why do they read them in funny voices
like they're chanting something very High
and not sure when to come down
at the end of a sentence?

Listen dope. You might miss
something deep.
Stop laughing at the back.
Get your gloves on. Black ones.

This is (ahem) a poem.
Yep. Hold on while I adjust my register.
No taking the piss.
You'll appreciate this.

This, the woof of words
measuring out a gossamer glass,
curving your life into lustres of light which,
stirring your blood like a silver spoon, will
reflect the deflection of infinite doubt as
I slip
into

my ordinary voice.
Oops.

Helena Nelson

If you've any comments on this poem, Helena Nelson would be pleased to hear from you.