EMILY HARRISON

Cirencester College, Gloucestershire

Love has no Larynx

I’m sitting on the edge of something

When I promise to write you a love poem.

‘I’ll base it on Sonnet 130’ I exclaim as I sit down to write,

You answer in inquisitive ignorance,

‘Well, if it’s got more sequels than Rocky then it must be alright’.

You acknowledged my love of poetry

But it was the meaning you couldn’t quite catch,

It’s like that perfect rugby-player’s bent nose

That you say happened in a match

When you actually broke it in a childish prank

With only really yourself to thank.

But there’s parts of you too I don’t quite understand

Like how quickly you can find Alaska in the atlas

Or say all you need just by holding a hand.

You have this knack to spot a wonky picture on the wall

And say ‘it could do with being tilted to the left’

But feel no need to move it at all.

And you don’t think it makes a scrap of difference

In recycling to reverse something we had no part in,

So we raise a glass of cheap Chardonnay

To promises as empty as our recycle bin.

I say, ‘rather than poetry, I’d much prefer to give you a kiss’,

When secretly I’m thinking,

If you don’t get Sonnet 130, you certainly won’t get this.