My Voice
There is no blood
pouring from this cut
that is my voice,
it is frozen in the
cold wind of the mind.
And against the chatter
of empty porcelain teeth
fall the crystal shards
of words that go out
on smiles that balloon
with “Oh the importance of me.”
F. Kate Langan writes poetry and re-canes chairs in Dartmouth, Nova Scotia. She has been honoured by The Journal of Wild Culture, Open Door Poetry Magazine, Five Fleas Itchy Poetry, Plato's Caves Online, Nixes Mate, Straylight Literary Journal, and Sweetycat Press's “The Gift” anthology, who have published her work.
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Powerful poem from first line on!