midday on platform 1

There's nothing remarkable
about his appearance —

a bit of piercing
a black hoodie
a tat or two
yet...

I fear for her,
as his tongue moves slowly
in out, in out of her mouth
and his pelvis thrusts

and his eyes close
and his beefy fingers knead
at her short shiny skirt

her eyes are wide open
they glaze into nowhere

she leans limp
against a concrete pole
surrounded by his body

pink daisies wilt
on scuffed plastic shoes

a pink backpack droops
from stick thin shoulders

I want to push him away — to say
go find someone your own age — 

the train arrives
he leads her
through the open door


Elizabeth Nicholls (Western Australia)

shoe shine, Sumatra

‘hey mister,
you want I shine your shoes?’
laughter shines in his eyes

our rubber thongs
are no use to a shiner of shoes
but he stays to chat—one day
he'll be rich, have a bike, a house
a pretty wife

‘hey mum,
you want we have photo
for your memories?’
he likes us very much
he is our friend

we enjoy the game—
his eyes are so big,
so soulful,
his skin so brown, so smooth,
his smile so wide his teeth
so white—

but he must go
find shoes to shine
earn rupiah
for his good life
we shake his hand

give him some rupiah
for his good life—
he treats us to one last
beautiful smile
and is gone


Elizabeth Nicholls (Western Australia)