Blueprint for a Gift

Buy me a dialect
no-one else knows;
a secret word-hoard all my own
so I can speak my mind
liberally – blaspheme, swear –
without a rash of fallout.

As a gift I’ll treasure it
forever – to the end of life or time
whichever lands before the other.
I’ll use it on your birthday;
send you messages so secret
only I can translate.

My dialect should sound stately,
a caress of stresses with tones
so sonorous; no ‘ums’ or ‘ers’ rather
floaty pauses for eager hearers
to infill with their preferred
‘I’m thinking’ words.

Take me to the shop.
I’ll try some on for size. We’ll practice
in the dressing room, kiss,
then see the price
and fuss.

E.A.M. Harris


If you have any thoughts on this poem,  E.A.M. Harris would be pleased to hear them.