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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.

Vicky Curtin

Vicky Curtin

I am a poet who paints and draws - originally from Auckland; now living in the Waikato.

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