Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

Summer - almost unbearable heat.
We pushed through the clattering turnstile, ran
by shadowy pergolas hung with wisteria
into kids' screaming like a wall.
The crowded water bristled with light -

kids in a fever
              plunging bombing
scrambling out again
              dripping wet
girls with wet fingers
              running to push -
muscles gleamed
              eyes teeth
flashed with laughter
              shoulders flashed
when the big swimmers
              travelled among us
moms in the stands
              were watching benignly

On a hot hill terrace the short grass sparkled,
bougainvillaea smouldered, purple, magenta,
lizards pulsated under aloes,
under the shrieking din of cicadas.
Sometimes we tried to play there, sometimes
saw bigger boys take girls for a stroll -
stepping with care on the gritty pathways,
they searched for privacy in the fierce heat.
Only the cold-blooded lizards could last there,
and blacks who squatted with glittering shears.

Once my sister
              told us how three
young teenage girls
              pranced out of booths
in the Ladies' Changing Room
              naked completely -
how they danced in the raw
              on the wet washroom floor
flaunting their firm
              fresh tits and swore
at the shocked mothers.

In my room at home, supported by dad's heraldry,
I drew voluptuous mermaids crined with gold.
Swaying wide hips and inordinate breasts, they swam
between the paper and my brain,
half fantasies of chivalry; half full-bodied women,
urgent with promises.