Lady hooligans on horseback
tumble over the staunched horizon.
Their rebellious porcelain masks, a pale
woke flush hiding Elizabeth the First pox marks.
She was a man. More man than woman.
She killed women. Default imposter.
Temporary sisterhood of fictional crises,
of perched panels in panel dress. Net a Porter
Becky and her reluctant hens, withering wildfire.
We are imposter: faking it for fraudulent gain.
She was a man. More man than woman, said
marry well for lighthouse maternity.
Soon, the Imposter Army turn upon themselves.
A subtle civil war, drenched in genealogy.
Imposters. Eager imposters. Professional
imposters. Famous, famous diffidence.
Two hours late as per / a fistful of pulled pork crisps in your wink-emoji mouth / as
predictable as a spirit level / settling /
/ I think you think it / that bulbous truth / a cacao and bee pollen energy ball lodged right at
the back of your throat / stuck thick and boggy like the data lakes of Silicon Valley
/ your silence got me thinking I shouldn’t shout / got me thinking I shouldn’t wear makeup /
what do you mean when you say you don’t get Beyoncé
/ oh permission to grieve / oh permission to call you short-arse saviour / oh gurgling
paranoid negotiator / oh stupid dry, chicken tongue / the meaningless words you wore like
a Cub Scout badge
/ used to say where I go, Hugo / but the mud that sticks / still mud / there’s no glow no
more / it disintegrated like the bluest cheese / left a copper taste / a lazy distraction. I just
want to ride front row with my friends
Amy Charlotte Kean is an advertising strategist and writer from Essex. Her first book, the number 1 bestselling The Little Girl Who Gave Zero F*cks was published in 2018 with Unbound. Amy's rants, reviews, short fiction and poems have been published in The Guardian, Huffington Post, Disclaimer, Glamour, Abridged, Burning House Press, Poetry Village and many others. She was shortlisted in the Reflex Flash Fiction competition and was an Ink, Sweat & Tears poet of the month.