Where new writing finds its voice
Poem

Tape recordings

John Osborne

You shook your head
when I told you that as soon as red wine
touches your tongue it flavours
it with a language as bitter as a corked bottle

of Bordeaux.
So I set up a tape recorder in my suit pocket.
That night at the party you told Emily
her high heels made her look like a slut
I played it to you the next morning at breakfast.

Slut, rewind,
slut, rewind, 
slut.