Rebel by Kim Littler

 

I despise that red crumpled foil,

Arrogant and self-obsessed,

Its surface deflecting every insult.

 

It’s been in this gutter since last week,

Torn edges, drowning in egotism,

I can almost smell it, floating there

like a bad lily.

 

The way you were, on that podium,

banging your fist into your palm.

The red behind you, your hideous snarl.