Tuesday Poem - Boys Own Annual by Rhyll McMaster

Boys Own Annual

What a shame

girls aren't more like boys.

Girls want to change the rules.

What a shame

they don't ever play the game.

In a Boys Own Annual view of life

the punch, the grab, the shout are haute couture.

The moon-about is paramount.

Boys need never realise, need not be clever.

Boys need not mature.

Girls don hats and gloves their mothers wore

and play at Houses under trees.

Girls are bossy.

They seem to like responsibilities,

don't love the mystery of scraped knees.

Boys like the smell and sometimes-touch of boys,

their stop-start world, well-debated challenges,

hatched plans never carried out,

the detached stare.

Boys like it when they never have to care.

Boys know girls are the enemy

because girls keep calling in the debt.

Girls block the light that's shining

straight down on Boys Own Mighty Heaven,

that glazed place where time's ephemeral, yet set

where boys can rest their case

without entering a plea

and wander home at sunset

for their tea.

This poem is from Rhyll's newest book – Late Night Shopping – published by Brandl & Schlesinger. The book is such a delight. Sharp and funny and eloquent.

http://brandl.com.au/recent-titles/late-night-shopping