My Boy – Poem by Lawrence Witt

Poetry by Lawrence Witt

The dog runs in
all teeth, a stick

his world is

what his mouth
allows,

the taste of things
held close
up to the eye

so sure what each
is, isn’t worth it.

Hasn’t got the faintest
at a hand for poker.

Doesn’t know
he found it
where we’ll spade
the lilacs in.


About the Poet

Lawrence is an English teacher in training, from Canterbury in the UK, with a degree in English Literature and Creative Writing. He has been writing poetry with varying degrees of intensity for the past eight years, and is now beginning to seek publication.

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