Flying copper hair under twin barrettes swing out on two sides like sun-

kissed angel wings in the light, hinged and held firm under her hairline,

Small Copper flutters to sun-braised colour, stopping to sniff at a hint

of ragwort, fleabane, and buttercup, grouped flower to moth eaten

flower, she picks a handful, throws the blooms high to fall like

confetti, careless to Monarch, who set heart on the dazing

yellow patterns and followed their flight to flutter down

fast and so we kneel, oh not to praise Ra, or whoever,

but the small carnival of now, with beetles and wood-

lice crawling, and the ladybirds and lime green lace-

wings and aphids just hanging lazy on the air, and

later, how we’ll skip hand in hand down the same

lane of life and memory, pigtails flying again

on a sepia coloured day, a giggling sugar

rush memory of being out late, teatime

was called some hours ago, but it’s

summer summer summer... and

who wants to go home with so

much to explore and all the

butterflies simmering in the

hot dusty air... when, with

a flutter and disengage

she’s off and all race

you! to the big tree

and back, or let’s 

go grab our bikes

and get Slushies

to slurp on and

we’ll blue up

our faces and

grin down the

end of the day,

and sit on the

gate, swinging

our legs in the




Sarah Wallis is a poet & playwright based in Scotland, UK. Recent work is at Beir Bua, The Madrigal, Spectra and Inkdrinkers, forthcoming in The Broken Spine and Ample Remains. She has two chapbooks, Medusa Retold, available from @fly_press and Quietus Makes an Eerie from Dancing Girl Press, with How to Love the Hat Thrower due next year from @SelcouthStation. She tweets @wordweave and you can find out more at