the speech therapist

when my love swears that she is made of truth

the words come down the wrong half

we can’t - we are – learning unlearned

I do believe her, though I know she lies

in the world's false subtleties
not the half, the other we will learn to speak

although she knows my days are past the best

helpless helpless, paralysed

I credit her false-speaking tongue
it’s coming spent, it’s half through

but wherefore says she is not, she is
hard to describe

therefore I lie with her, and she with me,
it’s half through, we hope it will

BE.

Anonymous

31^st July 2009