‘See we aren’t leaving anything out,
check once more to be sure’
she said with a nagging doubt,
‘we’re going to come back no more
once behind us we close the door’.

The hassles had made her tense
Moving out was trouble immense
I said to soothe her nerve ‘be assured dear,
We would leave nothing here’.

Still for her peace I went in
To make sure nothing lay within
And what I got was a jolting shock
On the wall still hung our bedroom clock!

She fumed and blurted on my face
‘I always knew you’re too careless,
thank god I goaded you for another look
precious things might be lying in some nook’.

I went in not to seek anymore things
But for the spent moments still fluttering wings
Smell our joys and sorrows hanging in the air
Of the times living as a tenant here!

Ingrid climbed over
the metal fence
by Banks House

and onto the grass
her mother's shouting
in her ears

her father's hand
fresh upon the flesh
of her thigh stinging

the early morning sun
came over
the flats nearby

the grey clouds
promising rain
she climbed over

another metal fence
and crossed over
into Jail park

to ride the swings
or slide
or just sit

by the sandpit
and muse
and wait

Benedict would come soon
or so he said
the night before

as he walked her
to her door
hearing her parents

rowing
the park was almost deserted
a few kids

in the sandpit
one on the slide
she sat on one

of the swings
and pushed off
from the ground

her thigh stinging
as she moved away
reaching for the sky

her feet in the air
trying to get there
she leaned forward

then back
to get herself higher
pushing herself

up and up
feeling the air
in her face

in her hair
thinking of how
her sister got away

with things but she
did not
she was punished

for little things
while she could stay
out late

or come home drunk
and back chat and lie
but she had only

to make a mistake
or say a wrong word
or look the wrong way

and it was slap
or whack as it
was today

her feet reached up
her black battered shoes
seemingly touching

the sky
she looked around
on the ground

at the trees
or kids
feeling free

to think
and breathe
and be

but still no Benedict
in sight
no sign of him

since last night
she missed him
and needed him today

someone to listen
to what had happened
to her today

she slowed down
the swing
put her feet

as brakes
to come to a halt
and sit and stare

then she heard
his voice
Benedict had come

cowboy hat
and jeans
and 6 shooter gun

and that broad smile
and he sat on a swing
beside her

and she told him
about the morning
and the slap

and thump
and whack
he listened

and saddened
and took her hand
and said

let's go find our horses
and ride to the place
that cowboys go

in that far away land
and she nodded
and said

we can have a cabin
with curtains
and a wooden bed

and table and chairs
and land to have
as far as the eye

could see
sure
he said

where ever we are
your parents
won't be.

We found it funny
that our shoes and shirts matched.

We heard people ask if we had planned it
and we told them we had not.

You also matched me shot for shot, until we lost the ability to count
and we decided it would be best to stop drinking.

In your bedroom I matched you kiss for kiss,
until our lips could not satisfy us anymore.

Breathe for breathe,
****** for ******,
moan for moan,
we matched and we matched and we matched
and nobody asked us if we had planned that.
If they did, we would have told them that we did not.

And now,
when people look at our lips
and necks
they will not need to know if we planned it,
because the matching of our hearts was planned
and perfected, and practiced.
Not by us,
yet we enjoy the rewards.

Unable to cast off the cloak of the day,
the slide of satin and pillows, no respite.
Sleep is no haven-

In the dark, they swell my heart.
In the murk, the memories of others clang about
ringing, shouting.
skull echoing to capacity.

it ebbs and flows-
the small brooks of tears
I
scoop them up in my basket
throat full of osmosis emotions
specks carried home like fleas on
a host beast

You take me there too-
flash your refusal and fear
through my sleeping mind
dream bits splayed, smeared, crossed.
richocheting through my inner ear

turned to the wall, I
send out a prayer that
I will see all of you
after the night.
whole, living, safe
with open eyes
bursting with
rage, hope and strength.

But who knows the morning?

These wandering patrons
Lie asleep all day
With the stillness of night
Clouding their heads

It’s a sunset with no sun
In the sea it’s dead
Been like this for years now
We elect to forget

Unseen personalities
Who shared my younger days.
Hated by my parents,
Who hoped it was a phase.

From first thing in the morning,
Then after school, till late,
My friends were always there for me
At ninety five point eight.