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Terry Collett
Poems
Oct 2013
FEELING HOT.
Elaine never told
anyone at home
over the weekend
about the boy
who spoke to her
at school on the Friday
that some boy
spoke to her
without verbal abuse
or name calling
was quite a phenomenon
in itself
and if she told
her sister
she would have guffawed
and her father
would have said
who's speaking
to my squat hen?
and her mother
would have looked at her
as if to say you
and that imagination
of yours
so she kept it
to herself
tucked it into
her small *******
next to her heart
and repeated
what he had said
when no one
was around to listen
even in the bath
sitting there
breast high
in soapy suds
(borrowed
from her sister)
she went over
his words
and how
he had said them
and how
she had blushed
as he came up to her
on the sports field
as she stood
by the wire fence
away from others
hands in pockets
snuggled up
into her black coat
her head down
her black hair
center parted
untidily hanging
and said
most birds
have nested by June
but you can still see
where they've nested
she looked at him
wondering if it
was some kind of joke
and that others
may have put him
up to it
but none was there
he stood alone
his brown
brushed back hair
his hazel eyes
gazing into her
as if they saw
her soul
and were feeding there
o I suppose so
she said
her features she knew
had reddened
her words came
out of pitch
do you know much
about birds?
he asked
she gazed at him
standing there
one hand of his
on the fence
by her head
the other in his pocket
she fumbled
for more words
opening up her mind
from its exile
not really
she said
thought not
he said softly
girls don't tend to
I'm John by the way
he added
pointing to his chest
moving back
giving her room
to move
she hesitated
wondering if
she should tell him
her name
she bit her lip
then said
I'm Elaine
he smiled
nice name that
think Tennyson
wrote a poem
about a woman named that
or was it some other?
he looked distracted
for a moment
anyway that was
way back
he said bet
no one has written a poem
about you yet have they?
she looked at his forehead
there were lines there
as if he thought a lot
or maybe too much
no they haven't
she said
shame
he said
you look like
the type of girl
who needs a poem
written about them
she looked over his shoulder
a group of boys
were kicking ball
a group of girls
further over
were sitting on the grass
laughing and talking
but were not
looking her way
but seemed
other wise engaged
shouldn't think anyone
would write a poem
about me
she said
looking at her
black scuffed shoes
course they should
he said
I would
if I was that way
inclined
but I'm more a reader
than writer
she wondered why
he was speaking to her
why he was there
standing in front
of her
staring at her
with his hazel eyes
you've nice eyes
he said
chocolaty brown
and warm and deep
she felt out
of her comfort zone
as if she wandered
into someone else's head
the bell rang
from the school
lunch recess was over
and the boys
kicked the ball
into the tall grass
and the group of girls
rose up from the grass
and walked school wards
like cattle
at milking time
she looked back
at the building
through the wire fence
at the returning pupils
best get back
to being brain washed
he said
see you around
and he touched
her arm gently
as he moved away
walking in a slow
couldn't-care less
-if- I-go- there-pace
she watched him go
her feet
seemingly
rooted to the spot
and her body
was tingling
and feeling hot.
SET IN 1962 AT A SCHOOL IN JUNE.
Written by
Terry Collett
Sussex, England
(Sussex, England)
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