Poetic Licence
1st class honours University of Bike-shed
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"A luminous watch strapped round the plums.
The radioactivity neutralises the sperms
And she can't possibly get pregnant. Gospel."
"Get her into a hot bath straight afterwards.
Hot as she can take it. And give her loads of gin."
Robert "did it" with Stephanie. All of us agog
over expressos. "It only goes on for about two
minutes you know," he said, knowledgeably.
A johnny-bag. Belonged to Dave's dead dad.
Washable. Re-usable. Issued in Palestine.
When he was in the army. We examined it.
"D'you wanna borrow it then?" Dave asked.
"... a sore about the size of a sixpence,
- on your old chap." Our science master said:
"Then it goes away." An ominous tailing off.
Her four words which punctured the paranoia:
"I came on today." And silence.
"Elastic bands and clingfilm didn't do it. Only fifteen."
Pushing the pram in Pullman Gardens. In school
uniform. Baby started up and he looked panicked.
"Aw nah. Oright then. Where's yore 'kin rattle?"
The podgy parade of teen mums waddling uphill.
After playgroup. Then later, like tagged prisoners
wheeling their wailing burdens around the Co-op.
The kid was never quite right y'know?
She'd jumped off a table loads of times
When she was about three months gone.
"It's sorta gungy." McGuiness was experienced.
"A bit like the inside of your mouth." The four of us
dutifully tested our mouths with our index fingers.
"Yeah I got a little girl back in Gloucester."
Baby-faced labourer homesick for the west,
His lagered-up eyes full of regret.
"I reckon she must be about three by now."
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