Stabilisers Taken 1987
Boys love bikes.
I hate mine.
Mum and her cuddles inside as
clumsy Step Dad holds my saddle,
runs close. I pedal.
Don’t let go!
Down a back alley street, so far from my pillow,
handle bars jiggle under sweat wet palms.
Spokes growl grumble. Belly drum rumbles.
Feet cartwheel like bumbling clowns
on Big Top’s opening night.
Propelled by fright, I glance back to see him
laugh at me.
He’s let go.
I fumble. Teeter.
No safety net beneath trapeze.
then I laugh too.
I let go.
Crack through air like ring master’s whip.
Shot free of my cannon. Rocket and fly!
Tear through skies whose horizons had fallen
down the back of a hug.
Mum might be cooking.
I feast on speed.
My tummy, a circus.