The janitor’s metal bucket clanks
in the corridor. On dark wood
my shoes are pink lipstick blotted with chalk.
Unbinding the tight ribbons,
my blue fingertips shake,
whilst the bruised glass of my feet
holds the used music quiet.
Outside the night pulls indigo silk
over the high windows. I see myself prise
the long fingers of flowers from my hair.
He’ll wash the floor now.
I take my pink shoes and run.