Poem: Bleach by Phoebe Stuckes
I liked the blonde but it was too powerful,
I had to grow it out, my head was a hot white coal
in the night. Men loved me too much,
they followed me on foot or in their slick cars,
at a slow pace, saying nothing.
I could hear the slow grind of their wheels
or their heavy footsteps, out of tune with the timbre
of my stilettos. I wasn't wearing stilettos
but I think you will imagine that I was.
When I picked up one of those shoes in Topshop
my mother said, you'll break your ankle
and I did not believe her. She said, you'll come unstuck
and I did. These days I keep my feet firmly laced
to the earth, in trainers, I'm always ready to run.
Copyright © Phoebe Stuckes,
Bloodaxe Books, www.bloodaxebooks.com
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