I dream on
only to give substance
to the night.

It is Saturday morning
I open my eyes
and run through
my inner calendar

yes Saturday
no school
no need to rush
to get up

but I do
no time
to waste in bed
up I get

and walk through
the sitting room
to the passage
to the lavatory

and do the business
then into the kitchen
come bathroom
and put on

the kettle
for hot water
to wash
I stare at the room

while I wait
the kitchen table
is down
over the bath

I remember my uncle
sitting there
a few months back
crying

in my mother's arms
because his son
had been killed
in some war

some place
he looked
quite broken
for a while

sitting there
on the table
my mother
holding him

and I watching
from the door way
trying to make sense
of it all

the kettle boils
and I put a plug
into the one sink
and pour in

the hot water
and put the kettle
back on the stove
and undress

the top half
and taking soap
from the shelve
I do

a school boy wash
face and neck
and hands and arms
then dry all

on the towel
behind the door
I hear my mother
in the front bed room

(a wash hanging room)
she's humming a tune
must be happy
my old man

at work
(half day)
I take my top clothes
back through

the sitting room
to the bedroom
and dress
ready for breakfast

then out
to the Saturday matinee
at the cinema
at the ABC

just Helen
with her two plaits
and glasses
and me.

There is a woman, trapped,
Secluded in a dark room,
no windows,
the only door is barricaded
locked tight with bolts and chains and nails and things of the like.
She is sitting
curled up
eyes shut
with her hands over her ears
pretending
hoping to not exist.
She is brilliant
but despondent
she is beautiful
however hopeless
intellect and adroitness trickle softly from every pore.
She resides within the confides of my mind
and every fiber of my being is pushing
with everything I've got
to force her out.
To share her with the world.
To tell her story
so that I may grow old
knowing that I
have been vulnerable.
That I have proven my humanity
my capability to feel and be felt.
Come out now, darling
No, it will never ******* be safe
but I think it may just be worth it.
Because I am running out of ways to tell people that
I am not okay, but that is somehow okay.

I'm drunk
And that's the only time I speak your name
When everyone else is gone
Your the one I want by my side
But when I wake in the morning
It will have just been another night.