The Words
Impossible to relax
as the inside of my skull
was stuffed with words
and it would be necessary
to release them somehow.
There was talk of inserting
a wire into the right ear.
They tried shaking me upside
down but the words rattled
like biscuits in a tin.
At home again they
slid around, whispering
more quietly now
like splinters of wood
inside an old guitar. I found
a pen, paper, scribbled down
the words, I just wanted
them out, out.
But the next morning
they were back.
We'll never go away they
said. Pleased to meet you
they said. They made me look
in the mirror. Talk to me
they said.
John Short lives in Liverpool, is active on the local poetry scene and is a member of Liver Bards. His poems have appeared in magazines like Poetry Salzburg, Envoi and The Blue Nib and his chapbook, Unknown Territory, was published by Black Light Engine Room press in June.