In the smoking area – Hayley Green – SST9 draft 2 – Auditorium

16 Jun

In the smoking area


You are stilettos above me

I am bare foot, barely standing

rolling cigarettes as if I have more

interest in the floor, watching

my reflection in your 6-inch heels.


Where conversation lingers

stale with cigarette smoke,

you approach me for a light.


Modelling mannequin realness,

you’ve curved your dress into

a female,

dusted your cheeks

with the colour of pride.


Although your eyes spyglass

into question marks,

your questions dance down drains

with your cigarette ash.

You never ask


as if you’re afraid my reply

will be bound with knives.


You smoke in silence,

breathing your questions

into your lungs,


lady like,

like lady is a description,

I read it jewelled around your bodice.


I am more of a drag queen tonight

than you ever were; you are a woman,

boobs, bums and boasting.

I am bare bones, bound bumpy together.


I say

Why is womanhood a clothing garment?


I have been here my whole life,

buckling baggy bottomed jeans

to barrier palms from

the softest sections of my skin.


Vulnerability is a dress

resting just above my knee

where his hand gartered

around my thigh.


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