Reeds
Blade between fingers, she moves in with her lips
and blows. She is far better than the other girls
who can’t hold the grass right, whose mouths are wet.
In jealousy they withdraw, grow tall and sweet as reeds.
She longs for their green loveliness, touches those soft
lips that made the grass sing, and since have gone unkissed.
Jo Thompson attends the University of East Anglia, studying for a Masters in Medieval Literature. She comes from a small kind-of island in Yorkshire.