Poem
Tracey Herd
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“Give me your tongue, ” you cryas I lower myself onto you
gripping your shoulders
as if you might fly out
from under me into the night
and I would tear it out
from the root and hand it to you
still warm, saying “love, love”
even though I were mute
and I would give you two sons
fresh from the womb
and here are my eyes:
the blasted heath is gone
and the daughter is kneeling
in gratitude, her honesty
a gift, not a curse, fully understood
to lead this man from his prison, into
clear daylight, into the sun,
scholar, little boy, king.
© 2006, Tracey Herd
Tracey Herd
(United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, 1968)
Tracy Herd was born in 1968 in East Kilbride. She now lives in Dundee where she works as a bookseller. She won an Eric Gregory Award in 1993, and was the recipient of two Scottish Arts Council Bursaries in 1995 and 2004. Her first collection, No Hiding Place, Bloodaxe 1996, was shortlisted for the Forward Prize for Best First Collection, and her second collection, Dead Redhead (Bloodaxe 2001) w...
Poems
Poems of Tracey Herd
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UNTITLED
“Give me your tongue, ” you cryas I lower myself onto you
gripping your shoulders
as if you might fly out
from under me into the night
and I would tear it out
from the root and hand it to you
still warm, saying “love, love”
even though I were mute
and I would give you two sons
fresh from the womb
and here are my eyes:
the blasted heath is gone
and the daughter is kneeling
in gratitude, her honesty
a gift, not a curse, fully understood
to lead this man from his prison, into
clear daylight, into the sun,
scholar, little boy, king.
UNTITLED
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