I bless the rusty cerise surface of you.
In gym they bounced their plimsolls over your crust
like astronauts in zero gravity;
their imaginations made them careless.

They bounced their plimsolls over your crust
and sang in the static language of your citizens.
Their imaginations made them careless.
Ginger Jane, beep-boop beep-bum,

they sang in the static language of your citizens,
Ginger Jane, what planet are you from.
Ginger Jane, beep-boop beep-bum.
You do not speak to me about your childhood.

Ginger Jane, what planet are you from,
you scold yourself in the kitchen over spilled salt.
You do not speak to me about your childhood
though I smooth back your hair and console you.

You scold yourself in the kitchen over spilled salt.
Tonight as we lie together under the duvet,
I smooth back your hair and console you;
our bodies glide into one another.

As we lie together under the duvet,
like astronauts in zero gravity
our bodies glide into one another
and I bless the rusty cerise surface of you.

© Aiko Harman