‘Can you hold my drink for me?’ By Ryan Hatton

The music thrums through me,

Reverberating in my very core –

Yet my hand stays grasped over the glass,

Fingers curled tightly around its edges,

Fighting for the trust placed with me.

Tonight there are wolves about,

Dressed up beyond their fine furs;

Golden chains glistening in the moonlight.

But tonight they will not feed,

Not on my watch. Not if I have a say.

I sway with the music,

Holding this gin and coke

far too tightly. Almost as if it leaves my sight

I’d be signing away the dreams of another.

But tonight I will not be doing that.

Vodka stings the back of my throat,

My face pales, just like my fingertip flesh –

These minutes feel like hours,

And for these hours I fill them

with the pride of a protector.

As girls protect girls,

When wolves are on the hunt.