I sat, with my friend Miranda, on the fire escapeOutside the library, and talked about the bomb.We wondered if we would see the rockets coming over Or if it would be quick, and we know nothing.
Because we were afraid, I told her that I lovedA girl who came from Goa in the sixth form,Whose mother wore a sari, and who had diamonds in her ears.Because we were afraid, Miranda said she loved her tooBut I looked at her and knew that, if we lived,She would grow out of it.
At the school dance I wore a dress.It didn’t suit me and it didn’t fit me.I thought I looked peculiar in itAnd, probably, I did.
I got a boy who studied chemistryAnd stood on my feet and didn’t notice.I was very good at ballroom dancingBut in the class I always led another girl;I wasn’t Ginger Rogers, and I couldn’t do itBackwards in high heels.
Afterwards he wrote a letter to say thank youFor a lovely evening, and could we meet again?I never answered as I couldn’t thinkOf anything to say.
I looked up lesbian in the dictionaryAnd it said ‘of Lesbos’.I looked up Sapphic And it said ‘of Sappho’.Lesbos was an island in the AegeanSappho was a poet who lived there.Dictionaries are not always helpful.