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

The dress fell awkwardly down past her chest
to her bony knees. There were no curves, only
angles - thin reedy legs, and the face blossoming
with marmalade-coloured freckles, and the eyes
small and deep-set seeing everything - the ears
like curious shells growing out of matchstick
straight golden hair.

The sounds of flushing water - the screams of
childish voices, high pitched and raucous
a barking dog’s loud yapping for just one small
scrap from the table of the blessed bread kissed
by Papa... .and swallowed by greedy mouths eager
to chew - protuberant cheeks like delighted chip-
munks.

Flung hats and coats, galoshes and mittens. A flurry
of cries, kisses and goodbyes. “Wear your hat.!” “Don’t
lose your gloves!” A kiss, another hug against warm
breasts - Papa waving “Ciao!” as the truck waiting
outside honks its horn summoning him to Golgotha at the
stove factory. The children racing each other to school....
Mama at the doorway in housedress and apron, wearing her
many Medals of Honor....the safety pin!

What a difference a year makes!
A day is too short - go tell that to Dinah Washington
who sang up a storm and drowned out a skinny jug-eared
kid from Hoboken who wowed them at the Roxy.
Yeah man! look at that skinny freckled faced little girl
who isn’t little anymore. Damn, the mirror doesn’t lie.
The crackling radio stutters, as she examines her tanned
lean new body and firm young breasts....
Pouts and prances like Turner in “Postman.”

Johnny at the gate in his maritime Cadet uniform -
Her first date at fourteen - his at fifteen.
Down to the Rivoli and Bogart and Bergman….Bergman in
rubber-lipped pout and the tinkling strains of a honky tonk
piano....As Time Goes By. Frantic fingers searching canti-
levered breasts - a crushed corsage - Dooly Wilson’s sonorous
baritone....Petals like broken wings....another fumbled pass
caught in the pallid glow of a movie projector.

An ice cream soda at Bonaparte’s....then home at the stroke
of ten.…the sounds of buzzing mosquitoes under the yellow
porch light - a crush of blue serge arms - a searching of
eager mouths pressing against virgin breasts - a soaring eagle
lost in flight - another kiss seen by a marionette of chintz
covered fingers frantically summoning an errant offspring....
A slap - a reprimand to the suitor of her dreams - a too quick
unrequited, “Goodnight!”