—circa 1989

To be invited to contribute to the loud

clear voice of students

with serious intellect and bravado

was too scary, she was still locked

in her wardrobe with her parents

unpicking the knots

of who she was told she had to be

out of her yearned for 

midriff top and high waisted short.

Write about your strict upbringing,

other students will empathise,

she tried to prise the door

to escape the dramatic mess

of limbs and lips hung

with the too-long skirts and overbearing coats.

Pent up panic kept the door shut

with her Mother becoming Saint Paraskevi

chanting liturgy and resting her head

on the guillotine, her Father becoming

the boss clown belching at her ‘Distinction’

reading then ripping her secret diaries. 

If only she knew back then

her messy mind

with its history of playing with Cypriot doilies,

fingering fake fur,

tangled in the ties and tulle

of forced weddings

was the perfect riot to let loose

without edit.