What I Asked of Life
When I was six, Life gave me cartwheels, bilberry pie
and all of us at the mirror, comparing purpled tongues.
From thirteen to thirty I pleaded, Give me a Christian nose,
legs up to my armpits. And please, stop me having crushes on girls.
But I stayed a long-nosed Jew, too smart to get a boyfriend,
too scared to get a girlfriend. Not listening! said Life, Deal with it.
Come, said Life, holding out her little finger, let’s make friends.
So we shook pinkies and my mishmash-self grew potato-smooth.
Rachael Clyne: Her collection, Singing at the Bone Tree www.indigodreamspublishing.com