I told Margo I was not good at ‘found’ poetry, so it is only fitting when I should try that I should choose her to ‘steal’ from. All of the following words/lines are taken from poems she has posted on her website this month.
Without her, a world of silences, the small death
splashed against a whitewashed wall–
footsteps shuffle over carpet.
Purse your lips;
I want your hands on my eyes.
look outwards and inwards,
too exhausted to talk.