Creative Writing, Venue

wishing for clovers

we are barely ten and holding
our imaginary shovels we
go searching for the golden light
or perhaps a newt in the 
long grass or maybe 
a lucky clover
your dad told you all clovers
are four leaf clovers but they
wanted to be just like him 
when they grew up while
waving his prosthetic
at thirteen you tell me you
want to be like those clovers
proud in their three-ness
and showed me the marks
you have a big family
i wish he’d look at you 
like everyone at the party
looks at you after you 
press your mouth to their mouth
fifteen year old mouth and 
steal a first
i wanted to be your very third kiss
but laughing ecstatically
you mouth your way
wide of the mark
you tell laura 
your daddy won’t be happy and 
force the truth past 
her lip gloss
you crouch in the old newt pond
college uniform still on and
pull the mutant quadruplet 
from a rebellious clover and
my eyes stroll the boardwalk
between sock and skirt
where your thigh softly fills
and think ‘yes this is the golden light’
before i can choke it back
but you don’t kiss me until leavers
with your pen on my shirt
and my lipstick on your neck
kiss number forty-seven
you are selective with your three-ness
and daddy won’t be happy when
he finds out
youngest of four down for the count
but at least he’ll still get grandkids
if the rest would get a move on
to him i become your prosthetic limb
pushing into you a plastic boyfriend 
when we meet at christmas mummy
looks away daddy hugs me but
searches my wrist for a pulse
we find our first newt squirming
in the wet mud of deep balmy summer
all golden in the sun and
i stop you pulling its leg off you
say it has the luxury of growing a new one i 
tell you it won’t be the same
and you look at me for a 
long time
when daddy walks you down the aisle
it isn’t me and i’m happy i’m happy
to hell with your three-leaf clovers
and your raw-limbed newts
i send you a letter about
wishing for lucky clovers
and how i wish i could stop a newt
regenerating if i could for one moment
hold that golden 
stub-limbed salamander and
you don’t write back


About Author

Dylan Davies

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September 2021
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