By Sarah Crossan

If I were back in Gdansk, I wouldn’t be friends
With a new girl either.
If I still had Magdalena
To copy homework from
And sit with at lunch,
I’d ignore a new girl too,
Like we snubbed Alexsandra who stood
Far enough away
To be discreet.
Close enough to be invited.

We just ignored her.

We played tennis, pretended not to notice
She was holding a racket and
Wearing shorts with pockets.
Why did we do that?

But we weren’t mean to her.
We didn’t whisper and laugh,
Avoid touching her in case we caught something.

We simply ignored her.

Poet Bio

Sarah Crossan grew up in Dublin and emigrated to the UK when she was six years old, later studying at The University of Warwick and The University of Cambridge. She worked as an English teacher for ten years, in both England and the United States, before becoming a full-time writer in 2012. Her novels have been translated into more than twenty languages and several of her books have been optioned for stage, film, and TV. She continues to work in schools with teenagers.   See More By This Poet