Me; Orator

Tell me, stranger

–  your eye amplifies me –

Are my words away though,     as I hear them?

blown out      damp as the night air.

It’s owned in my brain; tight

until I speak             and ooze.

An ear of mine cranes, in exile – a dog.

It can     not    near    the master’s voice

that creeps    and climbs    and peaks

at the white hair of your temple.

Author: Vicky Curtin

I am a poet who paints and draws - originally from Auckland; now living in the Waikato. View all posts by Vicky Curtin