From the first Borders Bards Event in Braintree

Here is a poem Will has seen, and something I read at my poetry/prose reading at my job, Borders.


If I could tell you
the way your eyelids
blink and shudder
a late night stutter
of romantic thoughts,
you would stare at me and smile
(considering me crazy all the while)
and blushing, eventually retreat.

The mind will natively mutter
a thousand humble hushing flutters
to any of you, the noble sweet,
down mass ave, through newbury street.

If I had known from the start
that we are tiny, coddled clams
each holding hiding hearts,
might I lose my hues
or make a home
-a shell for two?