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Writer's pictureHelen Laycock
May 141 min read

FIFTEEN

This is a coming of age poem detailing that first thrilling ride on a motorbike.





FIFTEEN That summer was slick as oil, a dripping sun melting boundaries, softening the edges until thought lost all shape. Brick and paving oozed heat. We were caught in the amber of honey-stirred evenings and slow-ticking clocks. Limbs loose, we folded into the grass, cotton bodies imbibing its cool, murmurs barely disturbing the sultry air, becoming silhouettes, becoming darkness, details blanked and mysterious as we deepened into night. I let his shadow lead me to his steed, winking in the moonish glow, fire smouldering in its belly; in ours. I breathed patchouli, sank my cheek into the flesh of warm leather, arms circling the world, leaning into bends, straight lines a memory. No words, just the roar.
FIFTEEN is a coming of age poem which details the first thrilling ride on a motorbike.




Photo credit: Rafael Garcin from Unsplash

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