she wears Kappa trackies
un-popped to the knee
and they move like two wings
as she sweeps into the room
her crop top reveals
a heart tattoo - fake and fading now
but clinging to her
just like we do
the Adults breathe in sharply
as if she might suck them dry
she is wild - it’s in her eyes
not searching for approval like mine
it’s in the tip of her fingers
the bend of her neck
the croon of her voice
the thrust of her step
she speaks Salome’s words
kisses his mouth
with venom then offers us
his head on a platter
i almost reach out for it!
afterwards she lets the boys
pay one pound
to look down her knickers
if i were them i wouldn't look
i'd ask her what she dreams of at night
when moons fill the sky
like silver flowers
or better i’d ask what it is she fears
if she even does ...
like the rest of us
i daydream of her until Sunday
and pray for one more glimpse
of red
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