Choosing Sides

The other guy is down and I feel
carnal blood—metallic film on my tongue, fireballs building in my gut,
rising as I watch your feet ricochet through the mat.

I swallow and am silent,
you are eagle-eyed and defensive
Any blow on your skin
Punctures my own:
humanity lives in packs;
I only love my own.

Everyday Superwoman

I’ll overdose on Italian biscuits
for the principle
of sacrificing variety over endorsing overly-priced snacks
on a subpar airline.

I’ll go through bladder discomfort
for the principle,
of avoiding a tourist trap,
€1.50 for relief.

I’ll put on my face of disapproval
for the principle
to protest those bags on seats, those misbehaving children, flight delays, bashed luggage, rude staff, sit-down fees and service charges because I am the QUEEN of the small protests—
someone’s got to do it
and I’ll make that small hero me.

Big Eyes

Once upon a time a big-eyed girl
with tightly-coiled baby hair
went to big school,
armed with pink Barbie glasses
and a smile
(no one smiled back).

Maybe they’d have smiled
if she’d had Ted Baker gloves, like Georgia.

While the boys developed a language of grunts on the football pitch
and the girls monkey-mimicked hairstyling initiations,
the big-eyed girl faltered between the two camps
and finger fumbled through the motions of a plait.