Bambi – Iona Lee

 

Bambi

 

 

I would wet my tights for him in puddles,

so that he might notice the way my toes curled

and be distracted from the fact that

I don’t know how to carry my teeth.

 

 

My eyes are positioned perfectly

for him to notice just how blue they are,

but, his gaze is fixed to the buds which bloomed

earlier this summer.

 

 

Him? Him sitting alongside me?

He is a child, with pointed hair.

Spiked to a crown,

the king of our castle

in his clammy cardigan.

 

 

And with sweat soaked hand he might stretch,

and cautiously touch my shoulder,

which I have let slip, like a secret,

pale and sly from its strap

so that he might not see the way

that I don’t like my face today.

 

 

But, never mind.

 

 

He stinks of Lynx

and adolescent self loathing

and his clothing is what was picked for him.

And I am Bambi,

in ridiculous heels that make me ten feet tall

yet I still feel small

and all they play is House

yet I don’t feel at home.

 

 

But, never mind.

 

 

I know,

that one day that crown will thin

and fall on to his pillow.

And I know,

that he is a rabbit

caught in the flashing lights

which caught my carefully crossed arms

and he likes the angle that I make.

 

 

 

Iona Lee

 

 

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