I know now how it feels
the way schoolboys feel
when wistful winds come
to visit the playground
The ache down my spine
The ballooning in my left chest pocket
How could I not have known
the way of the schoolgirl
The skip in your skirt
The tails of your pig
There’s a pink pony tightly ribboning
a pinch in my waist, air
is a luxury when relics of you feed me from the inside out, you
are a commodity — the only food fit to fill the hollow pit in my stomach, I
crave only for you
when the recess bell rings