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Isla Ure

s h e   i s   w i l d

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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