Chapters

Those long afternoons spent alone

in a house swollen with silences,

I burnt with longing –

touching myself as I read ‘The White Hotel’.

Punched by a boy in the gut

when he dared me to kiss him and I did,

hot shame flared.

I lied to the teacher about my tears.

The first time he put his hand there,

under the folds of my skirt,

I stared dumbly into the dark

as his breath burst against my earlobe.

‘Blue Lagoon’ fuzzy on a small TV, 

and children leering like old men

at the couple making love in the water,

I hid my face beneath a prickly blanket.

I wanted what I fought,

we struggled on my cast-iron bed,

breasts exposed and him pushing 

to see what else I would let him do.

I learnt I was here on sufferance. 

Men straddle a world where women yield.

It was years before I could relinquish my body

as a gift, let a lover take what I offered.