Hattie Morrison writes about:                                  

using this site: click an image to access material


            Re-learning How To Talk

It’s fast fading —

that early morning muddle of words.

I’d skip minutes of sleep, over and over

(breakfast, lunch and dinner) just to hear poetry at the table seep out, accidentally. To eat them up, sip them up, under easy.

Can you hand milk the me,

no,

me

the

cup,

you pass me the—

up there

no, hotter,

hotter,

that’s the

sun, no

that’s the

one