Tuesday, 25 June 2013

Young Butterflies

The fear
that had always been,
they lifted their skirts
for a few euros,
gazing at the faces
of strangers-
the rendering of lust,
an urgent urge.
Images that went
unsaid,
unasked,
in a few fevered seconds
of moaning
and slimy discharge,
one body into
the next,
their eyes rolled
in childish response,

the fear
they would suffocate
or drown,

their minds flew
on imagined wings.

© Amy Barry

23 children sold for sex and labour in Ireland last year

Amy Barry writes poems and short stories. She has been a regular contributor to Poetry 24. Her poems have been published in Ireland and abroad such as Mad Swirl, EDP, The New Ulster, First Cut, Misty Mountain Review, The Plum tree kindle. Trips to India, Nepal, China, Bali, Paris, Berlin, have all inspired her work.