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by Philippa Jane

When I was sixteen
I wrote you a love poem
or rather
a poem addressed to
the semblance of someone
worth loving.

I’ve never been great
with words spoken aloud
those uttered without room
for consideration
or revision
and so I wrote you a poem

and another, then
another, and

you changed,
not only in your self
but as a concept,
reduced slowly to a slew
of male pronouns, the latest
no more profound than
the last.


Posted on 08/04/2008
Copyright © 2020 Philippa Jane

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Karen Michelle on 08/04/08 at 07:46 AM

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