Page 56 of The Black Flamingo

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my virginity in a graveyard. He hands me

a small glass bottle full of liquid.

I unscrew the top. “Do I drink it?”

“No, you hold it under your nose, like this,

and inhale; it helps you to relax.”

I follow his instructions.

A chemical explosion in my brain,

streamers burst forth into a tangled

rainbow, then all fades to black.

When I wake his eyes reflect me

as a zombie rising from a grave.

I feel like an empty plastic cannon,

party debris, balloon shrapnel.

When I get back home, cold shepherd’s pie

is waiting for me. Mum doesn’t ask

about the mud on my trousers.

My red eyes. My missing school blazer.

Lying in bed that night,

I imagine all the ways

Alex might have hurt me

when I was passed out.

He didn’t hurt me, but

he so easily could have

killed me and we were

already in a graveyard.

I was stupid to meet him

without telling anyone.

It was exciting at the time

but now my imagination

won’t stop showing me

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