Maureen McManus Biography

All my life I felt I should apologise
because I’m smart.
Like Camus,
as though my intelligence
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Your voice on the phone was like holly
spiky with red berries,
like Christmas white
feathery snow and cold brightness;
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In the candlelight
the long thin leaves
point spindly fingers at me,
poking at my guilt.
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When you say I can’t touch your furniture
I think you mean I can’t touch you
and I say I wouldn’t.
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