Sunday, 16 July 2017

A poem by Olivia Tuck

Wrong Place, Wrong Time

A total strobe eclipse rolls across
everyone. Blossom-skinned teens
in our little shorts.
A poppy field of iPhones. Cameras
fluoresce like spit of sparklers, fallen
amongst the petals.

Click. Flash. Selfie. Snapchat. Whoop.
Your face is golden rain.

Before we pack away the night, I will
leak the truth.
That you are all the universes

that may or may not exist,
with their nanoscopic alien life
forms, looking down at us,
thinking, “They're the real thing.”

Is this the right place? Right time?

I open my mouth. End up yelling
over the speakers to ask if
you reckon Ariana is fitter than me.

House lights. Evening sunrise
against your cheek.
I think of you, newborn. How weird
it is that somehow we both sprouted
into adolescence,

and you put your perfect hand
in your pocket;
bought us each a gig ticket
because you don’t want to be
my friend.

We should go:
Dad’s texted, he’s waiting.

I am a SIM card
away from you, if that.
There is nothing to hide
from in this whole gorgeous world.

Nothing to fear.

I love-

Olivia Tuck lives in Wiltshire with her parents, her sisters and her dotty Cocker Spaniel. She entered and won her first writing competition when she was six and hasn’t stopped scribbling since, creating flash fiction, short stories and poetry. Olivia has been a ‘Wicked’ Young Writers’ Award finalist, and has recently had a piece published in the web journal 'Three Drops from a Cauldron'. She intends to start reading English and Creative Writing at university in 2018, and is so grateful for the support she's had from crazily brilliant people she’s come across at the Richard Jefferies Museum in Swindon.

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