Virgin Speaker

Apologies if I posted this before.

She was unsure in the spotlight,

A trembling tethered kid

In a jungle clearing tiger shoot.

Shielding her eyes from the glare

I felt sympathy as

She apologised for her timidity

“I’ve never spoken in public before.”

Her soft spoken rehearsing

Of the fear of rape

And loathing of violence

Was boosted by her diffidence.

She should have been issuing
Books of botany and butterflies
In a still-water library
In Bexhill on Sea.

Not standing with hands on hips

With growing confidence and trenchant irony

Recounting the indignities

Women encounter in a cess-pit society

Not standing with hands on confident hips

In a calf-length modest red dress

And matching specs from Vision Express

Taking deep breaths.

My pal pointed to her breasts

The hint of nipple

Poking through the dress,

“Great tits! Would you give her one?”

“My granddaughter’s older than she is.”

“Yeah but look at her… Would you?”

I closed my eyes,

And in my imagination

Stripped her naked,

“Go on. Yeah. Bloody hell! Not half.”

Hail Mary full of grace, is it too late?

I cannot look long in the mirror these days.

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