Titration

A drop at a time from the burette,
known into unknown,
waiting for the giveaway colour change;
titration on a quiet afternoon.

She wanted to be a boy.
Drip drip drip,
Pink pink pink,
Princesses, ribbons; smile.
Pretty dresses, don’t get dirty,
tidiness, helpfulness,
the good wife always…

She looked a mess, climbed trees,
wrestled with her younger brother;
went topless on sunny days
in the woods, wore jeans.

Because they were fourteen
Because they were a gang
Because women gag for it
Because it was easy

A drop at a time from the burette,
known into unknown,
the whole world in a colour change;
titration on a quiet afternoon.

By Ruth Aylet

Originally published at https://thefatdamsel.wordpress.com/issue-2-part-2/

Ruth Aylett teaches computing at Heriot-Watt University. She is also a prize-winning poet and writer, whose work has appeared in New Writing Scotland; Doire Press, Textualities; Estuary – a confluence of Art and Poetry; Ink, Sweat and Tears and elsewhere.  She has read as a Shore Poets New Poet and at many Inky Fingers events. Read more about her work here.