Yiska On Her Bed 1962 Poem by Terry Collett

Yiska lay on her bed.

School had been a bore.

Most of the time
she thought of Benny
and the kiss they had
on the playing field
at lunch recess.

Lips to lips stuff.

How weird she felt after.

As if her heart would
pound out of her breasts
and go flying outwards
across the green grass.

Downstairs her mother
prepared dinner;
she could hear pots and pans
being moved on the stove.

Her mother was in a mood,
Yiska could tell by the look
she was given when she came
in from school
a little while ago.

Get changed out
of that uniform
and leave the room tidy,
her mother had said.

Yiska held herself,
arms around her body,
pretending it was Benny
doing it,
his hands there.

Her fingers lifted the hem
of her school skirt
and lifted it up.

You dirty flirt,
she said
as if to Benny.

She smiled.

Dinner's nearly ready;
are you changed yet?
Her mother called out.

Her fingers released
the hem of her skirt.

Benny had gone.

She sat up and stared
at the door.

What a bore.

She jumped up
and changed out
of her school uniform.

She stood gazing
at herself in
the dressing table mirror
in underwear and bra.

Shame Benny wasn't there.

Hurry up it's on the table,
her mother called
from downstairs.

Yiska lifted an arm
and sighed:
more hairs.