MAYHEM - Issue Four

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Vicky Curtin

Scrutiny

I would scrutinise
the bulk
of her thigh, this

best expressed
by the infant-art
of staring; but

I looked out
a squinted eye,
and halved the crime.

Could this
anaesthetised limb,     
bleed with oil;

or gesticulate
in the sea?
I’m a kid - thin,

and palpitate
my pins
in vicious glee

against the enemy
(I’ll soon become)
doused in

a gush of
femininity,
as bold as that thigh;

and the rude tide
that flicks at the door
like a tongue.

I was young
to be twisting
the fate of women;

and distantly scathing
a poor thick sole
of a foot glazed

at the sand
like
ham.

It was, I think,
a banquet
for the new-born poet;

inflating
reality;
ogling the shore;

and bossed
by inconsistent waves.

Contributor's Note
I'm a mum, writer and painter.