Cut
the lovely fairies
in Sister’s room
have blades on their backs
and lately Lee sucks lemons
for their sharps
looks for wounds in snow
on his morning walk with Mam
fantasizes he is sliced like a pear
but today the blood smells real
he wipes his hands on his trackies
dizzy tries to walk not run
because he doesn’t want to scare
and blooming like a cherry tree stumbles out
there is a metallic grinding scream
when Next Door ignites the hedge trimmer
the winter sun pierces Lee’s eyes
blue sky sawn open
in that moment the sky is too big for Lee
far too big and empty
he wants to find the stars
wants a knock on his bedroom door
wants to be red for somebody
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