Sawn in Half
Her languid, prime speech drawls
‘tells it like it is’ tongue
skims stones, creates ripples
ushers vowels
past her white overbite_
I catch every exhaled pebble
from her gravelly voice
stoned on cigarettes and cider.
Her bricks and mortar vernacular
graduate to polysyllabic
mortar board remarks.
I am magically sawn_
in half by the me
drawn to her accomplished artistry,
the poet to the page,
and my jaw agape
at her sandy hair framing cheeky smirk
finding gems in conversational trivia
stoking the embers, stirring the pot
with ‘school of hard knocks’ confidence.
poem by Pete Dowe
Added by Poetry Lover
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