Ben Gunn Poems

I could not hurt you, try as I might,
with words, inflection, impotent spite,
for pain not borne by lips that say,
is cut by reason then ripped away.
...

It's like
A death in the family -
with neither funeral
nor wake...
...

As he sat, idly playing with the spoon in his coffee
with one hand
whilst
repeatedly touching the letter in his other - as if by magic the next
...