Gaudy colours and rain.

Whoosh! And round again.

Stomach in my mouth,

there I was. Wondering if

the carriage would come off.

It could happen.

Smile for the camera,

‘ungrateful –  look at you!’

Blackpool pleasure beach

you are bound to see

someone you know.

Why does it have to be the school snob though?

Why do I have to get

some wear out of my sister’s

bell-bottom jeans? In 1982? Why me?

Or those boys laughing at my flat chest

in my pink vest. I didn’t hit puberty,

until after I’d given birth.

They are there in my brain,

the pain of ruminations.

Stacked up like little files of mischief

I wish that I could stop this complaining.


Copyright Samantha Henthorn 2018.


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