from Stroke Poems
Halved
is a body left behind
a slow arm fitted with a basic hand
words cased in trembling
Life divides like AD and BC
A brilliant twin keeps beside me
Reading Aloud
Each syllable locked
in an opaque shell
Each word to be jigsawed,
parcelled, stamped
in a wink or flash of the tongue
Like America sometimes
I trick the iambs
or guessmudge my way clear
Warning
Its laws are magic, alogic,
magnifying
each itch and spark.
A cough could snap the neck.
A fall might be
forever.
In the dark
superstitions gather.
Return to Work
1.
The taxi ride took my left-cuff button,
with thumb and obdurate finger
I failed and forced and coaxed it through the too-small
hole in my head.
2.
The velcro under my tongue botches
weather-talk.
Pockets are so
the hand doesn’t hang
when I step up to the high stage of conversation.
The one-two pass of the
“Hi. How are you?”
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6 mins
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2 mins