Mims Sully
I received a single artificial red rose,
its knobbly green stem stuck
inside a vase of frosted glass.
I liked to stroke my nose against
the velvet petals, take a deep breath
and pretend it smelled like the flower.
It came with a heart-shaped card:
Because you look like my mum
when she was younger. Be mine?
I thought of his mum in the playground
waving him off to school, saw my future
self dressed in leopard print and leathers,
wobbling on stilettos. I thought of him,
how he’d pinch me during Prayer
in Assembly and at Lunch, promised
I’d see stars as he twisted my arm
whispered that Kiss Chase had begun.
At home, I hid in the pleats of my mum’s skirt
as she told everyone about my new boyfriend
with hair the colour of caramel. That’s it,
I thought, I have to marry him now.
Mims Sully is from Sussex, England. She’s been published in Prole, Popshot, Ink, Sweat and Tears, Obsessed with Pipework and elsewhere. A Best of The Net nominee 2023 and winner of the Visual Verse Autumn Writing Prize 2022, she is currently working on a pamphlet of poems about dementia inspired by her experience of caring for her mother.
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