Voices

Voices

Slow down, she said from somewhere small inside her
Somewhere shaped like a star, or a crescent moon, let’s stroll.

But a stroll is like soup and it is biting dog cold, I roared from
the heart chasm near my larynx.

Yes, but not any soup. Like chicken broth, her small voice agreed.

The blood in my ears rushed out of the darkness and onto the road.

You are as thin as a stroll to me these days.
I like you more when you are away.

She stepped in a puddle of my blood on the road.

 
 
Kelly Dyer is a South African living and working with her partner, the author Emily Mackie, in Edinburgh. She is an artist and poet and completed her MA in Creative Writing: Poetry at the University of KwaZulu Natal in Durban, KZN, SA in 2008. She was subsequently awarded a scholarship and pursued post-graduate study in Critical Social Psychology at the University of Bath, England. Words are her one true language. Language is her passion. She has had a number of poems published in South African poetry journals including fidelities, Carapace and New Coin.

 

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