Pushing the upper limits of kid questions, this was the most  pressing concern a group of 14 year old girls in rural Derbyshire had for me in my sex ed days. This was more or less the answer I gave.

(Share with younger poetry fans only if you’re ready for a longer conversation afterwards!)

Koalas can contract and transmit chlamydia

Pass it cross-species, it’s possible, too.

But you live in Tibshelf, and it is unlikely

That this sort of thing’s going to happen to you.

Chlamydia’s mostly passed on between humans

By close sexual contact, and sometimes through birth.

It’s easily caught but quite hard to detect, so

A regular screening’s a thing that has worth.

But yes, suppose, in a pinch there’s a chance 

A koala could lick you, or wee in your eye

And give you chlamydia. Though it’s more likely

Round here, that you’ll get it from some boring guy.

Why is it that people are so fascinated

By unlikely ways they could catch a disease?

Koalas are not a risk factor in Tibshelf 

But condomless sex is. Protect yourselves, please!

A question asked of Jen, a teaching assistant friend. Teaching assistants are awesome.

Also, my autocorrect now hates me.
Probly Dokter Jonsen

Iz famusest ov orl

Hee roat a dicshunerry

An tryed too maek teh corl 

Shood hicup bee spellt “hiccup”

Aw shud itt bee “hiccough”?

Sum spelings doo nott maek mutch sence 

Butt docter J sed “tuff”.

Itts gud too hav gud speling

Becos itt hellps yu cee 

Wot peeple meen wen riting 

Iz itt pea or pee or P?

Butt thoe itt iz emportent,

Ay reely mussed convay:

Itt izzunt hou yu spel thatt cownts

Az mutch az wot yuo sey.

A delightful question from Marco.

It isn’t a shout or a giggle

An ooh or an aah or a wow

It isn’t a squeak or a squiggle

Or a screech that your teacher would never allow

No it’s really incredibly quiet

And it’s easily missed, I have found

But still, you can hear, if you try it:

The sound people make when they feel safe and sound.

It’s a bit like a sigh, but more cheerful.

A bit like a snore, but awake

Like a whimper, but really not fearful

And it isn’t a thing anybody can fake

It’s your breath letting go of all tension.

It’s your thoughts coming down to the ground

It’s the “thank you” you don’t need to mention 

The sound that you make when you feel safe and sound.

Another one from the endlessly biologically curious Finn.

You can’t eat grass

Dogs can’t eat fruit

Cows can’t eat meat 

Cats can’t eat roots

if we could all

Eat everything 

The world could get

Quite worrying.

Because we’d all

Live everywhere 

And even though

We’d try to share,

If every creature

Ate the same

They’d have to fight

And that’s a shame.

But we can share 

It all, you see

Because our stomachs 

Disagree.

Thanks for that, Elffin!

When you eat your dinner

Or even a snack

Your body is ready

To give something back

Because food is our fuel

 It’s an energy source

Like a car uses petrol

And pumps out exhaust.

We’re a little like cars

But it  takes a bit longer

And the bits that we need

Make our bodies get stronger

And the bits that we don’t

Have to come out as poo

But dividing it up

Isn’t easy to do.

When we split up the fuel

From the stuff we don’t need

We produce lots of gas

Very smelly indeed!

When a fart in your tummy

Comes out of your bum

It’s your body just saying

“Thank you!” and “yum yum!”

An excellent question from Foley. I had to google it.

The recipe is simple,

A basic 2 to 1:

Two hydrogen, one oxygen,

Mix well, and then you’re done!

It’s easy to make water

But there’s a danger factor:

Akin to baking cupcakes

In a nuclear reactor.

For hydrogen is flammable

And oxygen combusts

So smashing them together:

See the problem? Well, you must!

You’ll make plenty of water

Of that there’ll be a wealth

For when it goes kablooie

You’ll REALLY wet yourself!

A question randomly harvested off Twitter from a very cool seeming parent called @Iriedavi

Tickling is

A funny thing

It can be fun

Or frightening.

For some people

It feels OK

For others

It can cause dismay.

If we don’t ask

Before we touch

Each other, 

We won’t like it much.

To tickle

But without consent

Is mean

No matter how it’s meant.

This, you already

Know at three:

A thing some grown ups 

Cannot see.

A friend of a friend’s son, this. I have no context, which feels apt for the Goddess of discord.
Eris is discord.

The juxtaposition 

Of sense and nonsense 

Being and non being.

Air and water.

Flesh and water.

Of course the water would hold Eris

Buoy her up.

You cannot drown discord.

Try: and guess what you’ll create…

A friend’s small nephew asked this while watering the garden.

Plants (this fact should be no surprise)

Do not have mouths, do not have eyes.

But if they did (and brains to think,)

They’d wonder how on earth we drink;

They’d see our feet encased in boots

And wonder how we feed our roots.

They’d ask us “Why d’you hide your skin?

How do you let the sunlight in?

You don’t look green: perhaps you’re ill

Or running low on chlorophyll?

How have you grown to this great size

And never photosynthesised?”

Yes, flowers eat and drink, it’s true

Just differently to me and you.

Sevgi, about whom I’ve written before, asked me this. The conclusion that a comma is “half a breath” was hers, not mine.

You know

A full stop stops.

You’ve said your piece.

You’ve shut your mouth.

But sometimes, wait, there’s more:

An afterthought

A subordinate clause

(Don’t worry about what that is just yet.

It’s only something else you haven’t met.)

And so you do not stop,

But you pause.

Take half a breath,

Before you carry on

Towards another

Full

Stop.