The Man or the China Beaker

You hold deep waters still inside

Your porcelain pond, your little lagoon.

Outside your lines are unbroken, smooth,

Immaculate, white, un-dinted snow.

You have no hook to slip my fingers through,

So I will wrap my whole hand around you,

And make you fit in my grasp,

And make you fit like a glove.




© Laura Howard 2012

Fear Not.....

For in the barrage of verbalised bullets

It will only be my heart that is

Breached, ruptured, then split

By your cartridges of criticism

And while a script of invisible injuries

Is permanently etched in me

And words are lodged like shrapnel

I’ll smile and say ‘A scratch a scratch’

© Laura Howard 2012