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Cora Greenhill

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Differences

I crawl in fields of clay among the legs of men
lifting nests of purties* clean as eggs.
The boys get half a crown and I get sixpence.
I don’t understand the difference. It isn’t fair.
And the men set snares for rabbits and boys know where.

I ride in front of farmers sons on tractors.
My arms are smooth but theirs are rough with hair.
I feel their squidgy things through overalls:
I’d always known they’re different down there.
But men set snares for rabbits and boys know where.

We climb the high-stacked hay bales to the rafters.
The barn is dark but streaked with gold up here.
We make a nest and hide, trapping our laughter.
No fur is silkier than this new hair.
In here with me, you are not one of them:
our fingers feel each other on a softly swelling stem.

But still, out there, when men set snares for rabbits
you know where

 

* Ulster dialect for potatoes.

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