Love is a battlefield

by Jenny Blackford.

The town by night
packed full of girls on stilts

of mouse-soft suede
or shiny-shiny leather

higher than mountains
high as the sky.

Studs and buckles
hold the clue:

these steep shoes are weapons
in the longest-running war.

Fake-tanned legs
swing glossy-long,

gold-burnished hair
shines straight

as any Bronze Age
sword or spear.

Tattooed boys parade
signs of their tribes.

Though man-packs can be
dangerous as wolves,

before sunset,
boys huddle

like sheep. With every
round of beer

teeth sharpen
voices deepen.


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