‘…a peek at the unarmed Amazons relaxing at the seaside reveals a seldom-seen sensual, vulnerable side.’
Adrienne Mayor, The Amazons – Lives & Legends of Warrior Women Across the Ancient World
For a long time I hated scorchers,
their blank masks, their stick-on smiles.
I was too bruised for more blue;
his leaving was a wide enough sky.
I wanted a thick stretch of 70s,
dog shit surrendered on tarmac’s lech,
an afternoon edged with ice creams,
monkey’s blood on a knitted dress.
I wanted seagulls sharp as broken teeth,
monstrous gougers, King-Learing
my squint for a bag of chips.
I wanted back in the small days.
But time took the piss, talked over me
and now it’s T shirt weather.
Mine’s in tatters; the dark days
bit down hard. I might lie back,
let this warm tongue lick my wounds.
Here’s a plane dissecting sky,
broken trails, scars fading.