The boy laughs when he says he likes to leave a bruise

A Poem by Natalie Walsh

an ode to olivia gatwood

we are on the tennis court at midnight 

the floodlights flush his face flaxen

i cradle my breath in my stomach, hoping he will forget that i have a body

but his jaw goes slack staring at the white-flesh of my neck, salivatingly 

he explains how he likes to knock out their teeth in between kisses

he says it’s funny when they scream 

only loud enough to get swallowed back into their throats

never wanting to be the last ingénue when he whispers it’s how all the other girls like it

so they slick their hair back like a sharpened razor & let him ravage their collarbones

just this once they say, voices lavender tea, but i can hear the fear crawling up their tongues like spider legs

his girlfriend calls during the last game & he tells her he loves her whilst running his hand under a blonde girl’s skirt

i think how all the ones before us on the news had her face

& by the news i mean the show the boys chuckle at louder than cartoons

& by girls with her face i mean they only say their names on prime time if they had blueberries for eyes 

i think how one day i’ll get a call from a friend of his friend

as she cups her palm around the phone, words all hum

whispering on the floor of her dorm room that that girl he used to go out with is missing

& by missing i mean people who never knew her will light each other’s candles & crunch out a tear to stain their ripened cheek 

i never saw the blonde again 

but what i mean is i saw her once after that, wrapped in gauze from nape to jaw

& all the women clutched at gin & tonics

heat so oppressive even their glasses sweat

gossiping about what a pity it is someone so beautiful would want plastic surgery 

but soon the winter crept its way back into my bones 

& all the blueberries rotted once out of season

& one of the floodlights shattered in the wind

so we had to tip-toe home in the dark 

every branched shadow a boy with pipes for arms 

& when summer tempted us back again i didn’t wonder why all the girls still wore scarves