Knew young it wouldn’t happen for her – couldn’t believe
in a deity who’d deny her that, so was never going to be
a God-one, even when folk said she’d make a good one.
Any child would be bloody lucky…
Not any child of course – this one, a far from lucky start –
and she, like the twelfth fairy, only half-powered; still
trying, trying, a frustrating ache low in her belly
that no man was needed to grant or deny.
The baby’s cry breaks her like chocolate.
Holly Magill’s poetry has appeared in various magazines, including The Interpreter’s House and Bare Fiction, and anthologies –Stairs and Whispers: D/deaf and Disabled Poets Write Back (Nine Arches Press) and #MeToo: A Women’s Poetry Anthology (Fair Acre Press). She co-edits Atrium – www.atriumpoetry.com. Her first pamphlet is forthcoming in 2018 from Indigo Dreams Publishing.
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