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

8
I asked her.
I did it.

I asked her to play football
down the rec.
I could hardly see through
the black of my blood.

She looked at me.
I stood up straight, stopped scuffing.
She looked at me like I’d
handed my homework in late.

I wanted someone to throw salt on me.
I wanted my ears to stop burning.
I wanted to turn tail and leg it.
I wanted to make her smile.

She said yes.

I did it,
and she said yes,
and we played football
down the rec
all summer.

15
I asked her.
I did it.

I asked her to bed,
to my parents’ kingsize,
while they were out shopping.
My legs shook like crazy.

She looked at me.
I felt her gaze nudge my stomach,
tipping me over; too early.
She was telling me it was too early.

I wanted to rewind.
I wanted to just kiss.
I wanted to say sorry.
I wanted to love her out loud.

She said yes.

I did it,
and she said yes,
and I took her to bed
all summer.

26
I asked her.
I did it.

I asked for her hand.
Reception, the full church works,
Caribbean beach marquee for all I cared.
The wine had gone to my head.

She looked at me
as if I was joking,
quizzically scrunched-up, wary,
ready to laugh and thump me.

I wanted to get back up.
I wanted her to laugh and I to pretend.
I wanted everyone to stop looking.
I wanted to sweep her off her feet.

She said yes.

I did it,
and she said yes,
and I had her hand
for life,
for every last summer.

47
I asked her.
I did it.

I asked her to kiss me
one last time.
We were so close that
her heart fought mine.

She looked at me,
Tear-creased and more beautiful
than ever, wanting to fly,
wanting to stay.

I wanted to protect her.
I wanted her blessing.
I didn’t want to die.
I wanted her one last summer.

She said yes.

I asked her,
and she said yes,
and she kissed me so sweetly
one last time before
I left her that summer.