Tyberius Larking

Tell Me Like You Mean It 6

Once, I was sitting in my therapist’s office, and she asked me the question ‘Why do you write poetry?’ It’s a very good question; one with many answers, half of which I couldn’t articulate here. I responded to her with something like, ‘It helps me to understand my internal environment.’

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This morning the moon and her hands were dry as sea-glass she held them firm over my mouth and it was a kind of muzzle in the kind of rain that knows your postcode that smells how the piano smells …

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