Poems to share

Accent

Where Lancashire licks the lime crack,
as Cumbria curds the tongue,
that’s where I’m from.

Gasping my green
sharpened breath I burst
through Devil’s Gape — t’
fronding furred mound
pooling oxide red.

Now dribbling at Witch’s Tit,
now idling, vinegar brackish,

I taste bluebell, garlic,
cow parsley.

Hold a wild orchid ear
to the velvet bellying.

Smell the amniotic loam,
dark and fertile.

I am home.

© Kyra Pollitt

Poem submitted as part of the Places of Poetry project, find out more here.

Kyra Pollitt

Read this poem and more from around England and Wales, by visiting the Places of Poetry website www.placesofpoetry.org.uk