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A blank page

In Poetry on March 26, 2009 at 3:51 pm

a blank page,         decent
steady gaze, shrill voice,       heroic,
superb brown eyes that       trustful

wrap themselves      unhelpful,
around, bind from        normal,
head to foot so          terrifying

they seldom talked,      lovely
neighbours were      honest
dying,         inconvenient

not knowing what      horrible
to make, so familiar       frigid
that he need not be     remorseful

looked into. an unusual      lippy
air of quietude, apropos      sunny

basket of sewing, the      hairy
rainbow on the cupboard,      solidified

the modestly surprised        sick
grin and the piece of        tight

rope tied around its        funny
middle.              gross

Colin Herd lives, works and writes poems in Edinburgh. He blogs at The Devil Reads Poetry and co-edits the new magazine Anything Anymore Anywhere.

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