entry picture


She lives on the wall of my lounge

In the wilds of Wales

Where I’ve lovingly tried to nifidicate

A place

For her carved ceramic being.

But it's petty and unremarkable--

And truly not enough.


Unworthy of the tales--

That are hers alone to tell.


The consanguineous nature of her heritage

Weighing down heavily--

And unliberated---

In yellow and blue.


Only she knows the deleterious nature

Of the levy.


As assiduously as I can, I whisper to her in hushed tones—

‘Where are they?’

But she never answers.

And I cannot bear to know.

◄ Paul

My Ameriglish Girl ►


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