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...I would tell your story backwards, reverse-count the rocket shooting-up, out of reach, Swim with you out of the gin-clear pool, and hold your head above the water. Return you to the epigraph. I would wipe the brine from your eyes, rubbing out the mascara trails, Restore the cornrows that once lined your skull, gently oil them. Gather glass shards, refill the bottles on the floor. I would rewind your hardest days, and put those words that hurt back into the speaker's mouth, whisking you to the beginning of love. Time was thinner then. I would recall your deep laughter that filled smoky student digs, Cackling, as we tottered out of The Ritsy through neon puddles, Trails of greasy chips leading our way out of the woods. I would erase the black lines covering your arms, Redress you in the slip of midnight satin made for my wedding. Outshining the bride. Barefoot and abandoned to 80s cheese and 90s Britpop, Throwing shapes with your smooth, ebony limbs, Drowning only in music. I cannot rewrite - only rewind to greener days, when time held you more gently, And the world was poised to receive you. Reinstate your before. The finale would simply say, 'Once upon a time there was a girl...' Suzanne Fairless-Aitken
