Bridget Hart




His Mum Said He Liked Me

Easter holidays 1998, puberty imminent
his lips as dry as the grass we are trespassing on
my cheek is sweaty though, makes it sweet.

Mansell Junior School has a two-story building
that we are jealous of but
our rigid catholic brown-brick
had huts at least and
our field is bigger innit?

Arran Seymour is not the first
to kiss me, but
the spring sun has rambled on
there are only so many times
ten year olds can kick around
what they want to be when
they’re older, Emma and Liam are already
settled and lip locked so –

when he does it, I remember that I will remember forever
and one day write about it in a half joking manner
but really, it was a defining moment.

it is rough, quick and over before I know it.

At school on Tuesday, everyone laughs
he sends a messenger to
tell me it was all just a joke

I shoot him with my finger guns
and laugh off the residue.

I am crushed but
not disheartened, I follow
him home for weeks, make friends
with his mum. She said he liked me
so I cling onto that, for six more years.

I am convinced this is love
but it’s just the start of something
much more consuming.



Comments are closed.