Scent of A Woman
When a new love gives you
perfume for Christmas
you want to swim in it; spray it
in places you haven’t touched
in years. When you discover
it’s the perfume his first love wore
you want explosive sex
before spraying some in his eyes.
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The Wrong Label
The Christmas I unwrapped an Eagle Annual,
there was Dan Dare, all black lines, strong jaw,
and the Mekon, slime-green, repulsive, sucking me in,
each comic strip a rush of danger, the thrill of speed.
Yet minutes in to this new found joy, a cry went up.
My brother sat with a Twinkle annual in his lap.
I fought my case, ruined Christmas with my argument,
and lost. These things happen, they said, a simple mistake.
I flicked the pages of the Twinkle Annual, its fat-faced
children smiling pink-lipped smiles, cherubic,
but I was having none of it. I spent the afternoon
plotting how to make the Eagle Annual mine.
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