by Kerry Hammerton
I’m tempted to tear out each page,
roll the language into bite sized balls,
masticate my way
through The Turnip Snedder and Wordsworth’s Skates,
curl my tongue around Edward Thomas
on Langdon Road, crunch into Nonce Words.
HarryBoyle and EamonMurphy and TeresaBrennan
I’ve even thought of running a warm bath,
pulping the pages,
soaking in the exfoliation of his words.
Let poetry flow out my mouth.