History

of the notches on my belt which are
the legends of women
you are one

cold sunlight     grey uniforms     shadows
smoking behind the kindergarten
nameless offences
sex and success at dancing classes     I didn’t like

small boys whose gestures had no meaning
but when my love
looked old and frail and female in the daylight
I went into hiding

I’m still on the run
every time
I have to climb
all those stairs
I dive for the door hoping
no-one
will witness our unusual liason

when I open
the door you’re alone
I wasn’t mistaken
at sixteen I put it straight in the vein

the stage is gone
where we played to each other
electric firelight
in an obscure corner of the set
two women
gazing at each other
as if their lives depended on it