The Bones Beneath

Becomings

Green stains on palms after handstand competitions:

Muddied modesty, I am Gymnast of the Day.

Colour screams at me across the PE hall.

I am the rugby ball.

I take the ham out of my sandwich because I want to lose weight.

Nice Net-haired Nettie gives me a cookie. She watches me eat it.

Wayyyyyyy! as the blackness globs away.

The floor’s cold and grey.

Germany takes Belgium from the rear.

A Pritt Stick is like a man. The more you screw it, the more white stuff comes out.

Walk the long way to avoid hands and spit.

Pretend to notice Jessica’s tits.

‘Why are we doing this?’ Jessica says, I say.

Our tongues are two North Poles;

I am a liar but I don’t remember how to lie.

I turn from the sky.

I once woke up to a stain and a brokenness.

Warm smiles, cold words. I am the brokenness.

Hold in the vomit, the water’s too pure,

My clothes warm, dry, sure.

The Guilty Man buys my love;

His ears are hot: he is well-trained.

I smile-cry as I wait out the encore,

My clothes warm, dry, sure.