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