Mrs Amps

They said you were mad

Named of current

I sniffed the in-sensed temples


And you saw something too in me

You thought us all profound

Earwigging our chatter:

‘I have found infinity

It’s between two mirrors!’

‘It’s green’

‘Well maybe green is the colour of infinity’

‘No green is the colour of the blackboard’

You chalked up this ‘eureka!’

On the rotating blackboard

Circling all term

With English oratory

and the wisdoms of history

You squawked

In delight

Each time it reappeared

Like a budgie when

Dried cuttlefish is near

Thankyou for

Cradling our expiring innocence

In your heartful gaze

As begun

The hormone haze

That consumed

Our invisibility

And freedom

As our faces

Sprouted sebum

Our tits tottered like turret tops

Our juddering bleeds

Started as yours stopped

For one last summer

You bid us frolic

Before puberty’s


Gobbling of

unguarded enthusiasm

Before faux nonchalance

Came in cringing spasms

We shunned you then

And gossiped cruel

But you were the best

Being in that school

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.