Wednesday, 02 October 2019 10:27

National Poetry Day: Fingered

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National Poetry Day: Fingered

Fingered

By Nadia Drews

He put two fingers up
Nicotine-tipped
A little prick
Snickering
Balls barely dropped
Hawking up snot to spit cockiness
Chock-full of spunk
Tickling mid-air
Teasing the pleasure from his waiting mates
Taking the piss, fake masturbating
Grinning a tongue-flicking grin
Ear to ear
Stretched clear to the side
Like knicker elastic, leg lifted leering wide-eyed
His mates hissing

‘You lie’
He smeared a skinny pubic-wisped top lip
And sniffed in
Grimacing shit-eating smile wiped
Pigeon-chested with pride. He sneers
‘See it stinks,
She must be rotten inside.
Like something you’d hook Sunday on the side
Of Pennington Flash with your dad
Fish that has long since died
Gutted
Lusty titters
Guffawed oohs and phwoars

Becomes disgusted, twisted, bitter
‘Hanging...tramp’
He grabbed his dick
Flicking his wrist, dismissive wanking
Licked his lips
Pretended to gag
The verdict from the lads
‘Ewwww….you are sick for fingering it’

The girls whispered
‘Carol Donnington’s a lying bitch
Her tits were the only reason he went with her
He’s fit. Have you seen her nails, all bit
They’re fake those tips
And he lives in The Limes
He went with that girl Kitty
Gets on my wick
I saw them from the bus loads of times
Holding hands like husband and wife
I think he even bought her a ring
Silver, solid not sterling
It’s which finger, that’s the thing
How you know
Her dad’s rich
I’m not being a bitch but a lad like him though
That’s the kind he’d go for, the kind he’d get
She’s in the top set
Buffed to a shine, filed to points, whitened
Uptight though. She’s right stuck-up
Toffee nose
She’s always got new clothes from the posh shops
The way she smells like...I dunno...Roses
You can tell how well off they are
Better than Carol Donnington by far

His dad drives a sports car. They go abroad. They can afford it.
Cream carpet in the bog, a Dulux dog
Gravel on the drive, a brass knocker on the door
I know ‘cos me dad laid their floor
They have a bathroom with a separate lav
A lean-to. You know like you can have
Carol Partington’s mum’s a cleaner
I mean
I bet he’s been up her
That’s why he’s keen
As if she’s his girlfriend. In her dreams’

In Class 3B Carol Donnington tossed it off
Flicked the market varnished V’s
They could believe what they liked
She wouldn’t tell tales
Noticed a chip where she’d ate the acrylic
Welled-up, started to skrike
Then thought better of it
Tore it in her teeth then spit
Winced scratching the surface on her lip
Remembered jagged edges
Ripped-open petals on flowers on bushes
Torn with thorns
A brass knocker on a door.

The collage is Rag Town Girls Are Star Fuckers by Steev Burgess.

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Nadia Drews

Nadia Drews is a playwright, director, poet and performer. Thirty years of repressed rhymes mean she writes long poems - but she reads them fast.

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