Nor should you let her in unless you know when she will leave. She is

a shop for out-of-town-ers, 

a shelf of porcelain milkmaids

with no tag around her ankles

and it’s only at the register you find the cost

is higher than you’d said you’d spend. 

 

I hate it when she acts

as if I didn’t know Be Brave’s just baby-

proofing for Grow Up,

like ants dipped into candy shells

drowning

hardening

all kicking to a standstill.

 

Notice: the carousel swan has no legs

And somebody has painted all the horses

Like they have just been spurred.

 

Cruel, isn’t she, my love?

To tease and tempt, but only name

the price of her temptation

at the till.