Listen to the world’s best poetry read out loud.

Tiff’s got me against the school railings, doing 

my eyeliner. In double French, I’d whispered,  

Your eyes. Will you make mine like that? – slice  

through a room, a lie, a man – Break 

time her body on mine, stoosh then soft; sugar  

on the tongue of all she hasn’t done yet, all she’s  

heard she could do. Already, Tiff is a reckoning;  

bomb glitter on lids, oil spill on lips, sandwiches  

padding her bra. Yeah, the sandwiches.  

Thick, white, unbuttered. See, Tiff’s clocked  

the boys have clocked the difference between  

a tissue and a tit, a sock and a tit, but not quite yet  

a tit and a slice of bread. O, girl, you have  

opened my eyes, how they weep!