a ticket in an envelope
you’ve marked with glitter glue
putting on too much eyeshadow
you bought at the drugstore that day
wearing a skirt that’s shorter
than your school uniform
telling your mom it’s okay
and you’ll meet her right after the show
running toward the front hand
in hand with your best friend
flirting with the kid who sells you a soda
dancing experimentally looking
at the woman onstage and thinking
maybe one day you’ll be sexy and confident like her
realising that right this moment you are
matching your voice to the sound
loving the sound falling into
the sound
(A post by Ann Powers after the Manchester Arena terrorist attack)
Verbatim Poetry 