Fixin’ To

His voice.
His voice was not
yours.  Not that still
sharp Yankee whip,
tempered but untamed
by The South.
No.
His voice.
His voice was
The South.

Ancient Ulster curled,
like dreamy, tender   
tendrils of butterscotch,
from every ‘er:
daughter 
brother 
sister 
lover

Til i found myself
longing to drop
with every R,
aching to merge
with every vowel;
the hard consonant
edges of my soul 
worn (gently) smooth
by the tumble from
one syllable to two

©srogers 16 february 2012

2 thoughts on “Fixin’ To

  1. kvennarad says:

    A nice ‘find’ for my breakfast-time reading.

    M
    __________
    Marie Marshall
    author/poet/editor
    Scotland
    http://mairibheag.com
    http://kvennarad.wordpress.com

  2. CatGem says:

    Thank you, Marie

Thank you for letting me know you were here.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s