Maggie Butt


Laughing home barefoot from the disco
star-lit, care-free, safe within the pack
high heels dangling from our hands like bracelets,
cold pavements salve dance-blistered toes,
the pulse of living sings along our blood.
We are reflected in dark High Street windows
so the night is full of us, our youth.
The cars are few, our voices own the air,
and you three boys stride out, long-limbed,
the world laid out before you for the taking,
throw back your heads, cry to the moon,
We are gods!
And I look
And you are.