Enid sips
her share of
the Tizer

as I share
the fruit buns
between us

it's Easter
off from school
sitting down

on the grass
by Bank's House
with her palm

she slowly
wipes the top
off of the

big Tizer
drink bottle
and hands it

back to me
do you get
Easter eggs?

she asks me
one or two
I reply

I take a
big mouthful
of Tizer

she nibbles
her fruit bun
do you get

Easter eggs?
I ask her
it depends

if I'm good
my dad says
she replies

and are you?
am I what?
are you good?

try to be
but then he
my daddy

says I've not
Enid says
I hand her

the Tizer
having wiped
the bottle

your old man's
a pig head
Enid snorts

and Tizer
rises up
her small nose

I smile then
and hand her
my hanky

a clean one
fresh laundered
not funny

she tells me
me choking
she wipes the

Tizer from
her small nose
as I pat

her thin back
and pick off
bits of bun

exploded
on my arm
want more drink?

not just now
she replies
with choke tears
in her eyes.

London Zoo?
Janice's gran said
when I told her
that Janice could come
to London Zoo with us

Yes
I said
Mum said to ask you  

her gran looked at me
then at Janice

best come in Benedict
and we can talk it over
London Zoo
she said to herself
as much to Janice and me

Janice was by
the front door
her eyes bright
as the sun
on a dew leaf
her mouth
slightly ajar

take a seat
for a moment Benedict
Gran said

gosh
Janice said
that'd be good
I've not been
to London Zoo before
well I did go
to that zoo on holiday
but it was ever so small
and never had
big animals in it
did it Gran?

Her gran sat down
on an armchair
and said
no it didn't
you are right Janice
it was too small
but London Zoo
now there is
a zoo
she said

Janice sat down
next to me
her hands together
as if she was praying
that her gran
would agree
and not find
a reason for her
not to go

how much
would it cost?
her gran asked

no idea
Mum didn't say
she just said
asked Janice's gran
if she could go

I see
said her gran
looking at me
with her eyes
but they were her
kind eyes
not the eyes
she wore sometimes
if she was angry
with Janice
over something

when are you going?
she asked

Sunday week
I said

she looked at Janice
with her eyes
and Janice looked back
with her eyes
almost pleading

after church?
Gran asked

o yes after church
I said
not saying
that I didn't go
to church often
on a Sunday
certainly not
with my old man  
and now and again
if my mother
wasn't too tired

who's going
with you?
her gran asked

I told her
my mother
and sister
and brother
and maybe
my old man

she nodded her head
a strand of hair
came loose
from her bun of hair
and her eyes
looked at Janice

well if Janice
has been good
up until then
I don't see why not
her gran said

o good
Janice said

I smiled and said
I'll tell Mum
your answer

but on the provider
that Janice has been good
Gran said
with a shake
of her grey haired head.

Do steam trains go from Kings Cross to Scotland? Lydia asks. Her father sober smiles. Are you eloping with the Benny boy of yours? He says. Big eyes staring; blue  large marble like. Whats eloping? She asks, frowning. Running off to be married secretly, the daddy says. No, Benedict and I are only nine, so how would we be eloping? Practice run? No no, she says. Nibbles her buttered toast her mother gave. You be mindful, busy that place; crowds are there. He sips his tea. She nibbles more toast, staring at him. How are you getting there; too far to walk? Dont know; Benedictll know; he knows these things. Underground trains best, the daddy suggests. But how to get the money for fare? He asks; his eyes narrow on to her. Dont know, she says, looking at the tablecloth, patterned, birds. Has your Benny boy the money? Sober, good humoured, he smiles. Expect so, she says, doubtful. See your mother, ask her, he suggests, smiling, as if. Well, must be off, work calls, he says. Where are you today? She asks. Train driving to Bristol. Is that near Scotland? He smiles, shakes the head. No, Bristols west, Scotlands north; do you not know your geography? The daddy says. She shrugs. Sober he shakes the head. Well, Im off. See your mother about the fares. She nods; he goes taking a last sip of tea. She eats the buttered toast, cold, limp. She sits and gazes out the window. Sunny, warm looking. The birds on the grass; the bomb shelter still there. Wonders if the mother will. Money for fares. Knock at the front door. Her daddy answers. Opens up. Your Bennys here, Princess, he mocks. See you mind her, Benny boy, shes my precious, the daddy says out the door and away. Lydia goes to the door. Benny is standing there looking at her daddy walking through the Square. Her mother comes to the door wiping her hands on an apron, hair in rollers, cigarette hanging from her lip corner. Whats all this? her mother asks. Lydia looks at Benny. He gazes at the mother. Kings Cross, he says. Is he? The mother says. Train station, Benny adds unsmiling. So? We thought wed go there, Lydia says, shyly, looking at her mother. How do you think of getting there? Underground train, Daddy said. Did he? And did he offer the money? No, said to ask you. Did he? The mother pulls a face, stares at Lydia and Benny. Am I to pay his fare, too? She says, staring at Benny. No, Ive me own, he says, offering out a handful of coins. Just as well. If your daddyd not been sober youd got ****** all permission to go to the end of the road, her mother says, sharp, bee-sting words. Wait here, she says, goes off, puffing like a small, thin, locomotive. Benny stands on the red tiled step. Your dad was sober? She nods, smiles. Rubs hands together, thin, small hands. How are you? Fine, excited if we go, she says, eyeing him, taking in his quiff of hair and hazel eyes; the red and grey sleeveless jumper and white skirt, blue jeans. He looks beyond her; sees the dull brown paint on the walls; a smell of onions or cabbage. Looks past her head at the single light bulb with no light shade. Looks at her standing there nervous, shy. Brown sandals, grey socks, the often worn dress of blue flowers on white, a cardigan blue as cornflowers. They wait. Hows your mother? Ok, he replies. Your dad? Hes ok, he says. They hear her mother cursing along the passage. He says ask for this, but he never dips in his pocket I see, except for the beer and spirit, and o then it out by the handfuls. She opens her black purse. How much? Dont know. The mother eyes the boy. How much? Two bob should do. Two bob? Sure, shell give you change after, Benny says. Eye to eye. Thin line of the mothers mouth. Takes the money from her purse. Shoves in Lydias palm. Be careful. Mind the roads. Lydia looks at her mother, big eyes. Shyly nods. You, the mother points at the boy. Take care of her. Of course. Beware of strange men. I will. Stares at Benny. Hes my Ivanhoe, Lydia says. Is that so. Go then, before I change my mind. Thin lips. Large eyes, cigarette smoking. Take a coat. Lydia goes for her coat. Hows your mother? The mother asks, looks tired when I see her. Shes ok, gets tired, Benny says, looking past the mothers head for Lydia. Not surprised with you being her son. Benny smiles; she doesnt. He looks back into the Square. The baker goes by with his horse drawn bread wagon. Hemmy on the pram sheds with other kids. What you doing making the fecking coat? The mother says over her thin shoulder. Just coming, Lydia replies. Shes there coat in hand. The mother scans her. Mind you behave or youll feel my hand. Lydia nods, looks at Benny, back at the mother. Mind the trains; dont be an **** and fall on the track, the mother says, eyeing Benny, then Lydia. Shes safe with me, Benny says. Ill keep her with me at all times. Youd better. I will. Eye to eye stare. And eat something or youll faint. Ill get us something, the boy says. The mother sighs and walks back into the kitchen, a line of cigarette smoke following her. Ok? She nods. They go out the front door and Lydia closes it gently behind her, hoping the mother wont rush it open and change her mind. They run off across the Square and down the *****. Are we eloping? She asks. What? Us are we eloping? No, train watching. Why? The daddy says. Joking. Sober. Benny smiles, takes in her shy eyes. Whats eloping? He asks. Running off to marry, Daddy says. Too young. Practice run. Daddy said. Not today, Benny says, smiling, crossing a road. Looking both ways. Not now, not in our young days.

Mum says she can't
afford for me
to have a hula hoop
Helen says

as I meet her
by Baldy's shop
early Saturday morning
but I have had a go

on my friend's
not that I'm
very good at it
she says

but it would have been
good to have had my own
o come on
I say

it's a hoop of plastic
and you put it
around your waist
and do a wiggle

of your body
and it goes round
continuously around
your waist

if you're lucky
I say
that's nothing
to mope about

she stands
by the side
of the shop
looking up towards

the railway bridge
in Rockingham Street
but I did like
having a go

she mutters
I'd like to ride a horse
like the Lone Ranger
but I wouldn't want

to own a horse
I say
where'd I put it
if I did?

I'd love a horse
she says
white one
with a long

hairy tail
and she dreams
for a moment or two
about the horse

but you're right
she says
where to put it?
we walk down towards

the post office
to post a letter
of her father's
and then walk along

the Newington Causeway
what colour horse
would you like?
Helen asks

black shiny black
I say
she talks of her brother
dropping her doll

Battered Betty
and an arm
coming off
and how her dad

managed to
fix it again
but it was
back to front

and he had
to take it off
and put it
the right way around

and she's
at home resting
Helen says
resting after

the operation
and we come to
the New Kent Road
and walk along

to the Trocadero cinema
and pay out money
for the morning matinee
and we sit

half way back
ready to watch
the cartoon
and black and white

Batman film
then the big feature film
which I hope
won't be

a cowboy film
with kissing in it
which really
gets my goat

and Helen sits
next to me
waiting for the lights
to go out

still talking
about her doll
and the arm
and one eye

I watch the screen
not wanting to know.

Liz put the plate
on the table.

I watched.

First day, new job.

The patients grabbed
at the contents
of the plate
and a fight
almost broke out.

Take turns,
yer idjits,
she said.

A Downs gazed at her
with his large brown eyes,
his tongue sat
on his lower lip.

Maybe, a plate each
would be better,
I said.

Not so much
fun though,
she replied.

The contents that
had been on the plate
was now being eaten
or lay scattered
on the floor
beneath the table.

A few patients
looked on bewildered,
staring at me
or Liz as she moved
about the table,
her hands stuffed
in the pockets
of her white coat.

She walked
past the table
and walked
to the window
and gazed out.

Is there nothing else?
I asked.

Later,
she said,
give it to
them later.

One or two patients
got down
from the table
and walked
about the room,
some playing
with their fingers,
some nodding
their heads,
some just walked
past each other
and spoke gibberish.

Think you'll
like the job?
Liz asked.

I shrugged
my shoulders.

Don't know.

The Downs got down
from the table
with his handful of food
and passed Liz
contentedly,
eyeing her
sideways on,
his nose running,
his tongue poking
from the side
of his mouth.

Hours past.

The smell of *****
soaked into my
white coat,
the smell of it
in the air,
hanging there afloat.

Who's she then?
Netanya asks
as I sat in the bar
of the local
beside her
at a window seat

who?
I ask her

that fancy bit
with the ****
sticking out a mile
who smiled at you

where?

there at the fruit machine
putting in
her ill-gotten gains
Netanya says
nodding in the direction
of the newly installed
fruit machine

I eye the woman
standing there
she smiled at me?

yes she ****** well did
didn't you see?

no I was looking
at the dart players
I say

dart players my ****
you were gazing at her
and all that
she flashes at you

I look away
from the woman
and stare at Netanya

never seen her
before in my life
I say

she stares
back at me
her eyes boiling blue

if you're going
to accuse me
all night about women
who may or not
smile at me
then I'm going
I say
taking a sip
of my beer

she pouts her lip
then sips her cocktail
with the cherry
on a stick

every time I go out
with you
you think women
are making eyes at me
or that I'm having
an affair with
one of them
I say

don't come to me
tonight for the ***
because there won't
be any
she says

very encouraging
I say
lighting up
a cigarette

she smiled at you
Netanya says
I saw her
with my own eyes
it was that
come to bed eyes
look and smile

I'm not familiar
I say
maybe you are

she slams her glass
on the small table
and her cocktail
cherry stick
jumps out
AND WHAT'S THAT
SUPPOSED TO MEAN?
she says loudly

people stare at us
from around the bar

I sip my beer
and take a drag
on the cigarette
and stare at the floor
if the hat fits
I say

she picks up
the cherry
and ***** it
off the stick

she sighs
then sips her drink
where we going
after this?
she says
leaning into me
and damaging me
with a sticky kiss.

“They have locked the ward,” said Tristana, “I am prisoner to the nurse’s whim. I see the large key hanging from her belt, it rattles against the other keys as she walks. I feel ghosts touch my arm as I pass; their voices echo in my ears, their fingers feel my flesh. The nurse called Bryony bellows at us all; her voice hammers in our ears. The windows show the fields beyond, the trees wave in the wind, the birds fly so high. Isolde holds my hand, she follows me wherever I go; her eyes are alight with her father’s ghost; his spanking hand raised in her memory’s eye. I let her come to my bed at night, let her cuddle close when the lights are out, let her kiss when the others sleep. The mad here are ****** by their minds; the sunlight makes them ***** up their eyes; their voices are pitched to the highest degree. The nurses come with their strutting pace; their hands haul us to our place in the dining hall; the food rammed down throats like pigs at troughs; the sounds of the mad echo the walls. Isolde and I walk in the grounds; the elm grove our daily trot; the birds our only companions. She speaks of her father’s hitting hand and his ******* times with her flesh at nights; she stares at the sky like a lost sheep. We embrace beyond the window’s sight; we kiss where none can see; the sunlight blesses us, the wind holds us with kind parent’s touch; we whisper words to the passing birds. The high walls surround us; the far off bell reminds us of home; the sound of keys locking reminds us of Hell. The nurses come for the baths are ready; the patients scream for the water’s hot, the flesh turns red at the water’s touch. The nurse called Bridget takes my hand, she leads me to the washing room, her hands rub me clean as my mother’s did; her eyes are blue as the distant sky; her voice melodic as a bird in spring. The chaplain comes with his bible and prayer; his eyes are black as the doomed and the ******; his voice bellows like the thunder of storms. He leads us in prayer like the blind leading blind; the Bible is read but the message is lost; the patients hum like the soon to be dead. I want my mother’s hold, my sister’s kiss; I want to hear the laughter of my father’s voice, his embrace against the storms that shake my mind.  Isolde comes; her hand in mine holds me fast; her lips are ever on my cheek, kissing me in her daily love, her voice tripping over words like a lame child’s run. We sit and watch the clouds pass by; we name each one with our special names, we see shapes in the formation as they pass. She cries in her sleep if her father comes, his ghostly shape and his spanking hand, her flesh shakes as he passes by. The doors of the ward are locked; the asylum holds us in a strong man’s grip; the nights go out as we twist and turn; Isolde creeps to my bed like a frighten child; we embrace in the darkness against the cold and ghosts; the keys rattle in our sleep; Isolde’s lips are pressed to my breast; the angels may come one night and grant us rest.”