You pause the sewing machine, listen for any sounds other than the machine; there is none. It is oddly silent except for birdsong from the garden. You gaze out of the window in front of you, see the trees, the flowers, the children playing in the garden next door, and smile weakly. Your daughter would have been playing out there now if death hadn’t taken her, if things had been different. You can almost picture her there, her fine black hair, her deep dark eyes, that small smile about her mouth that seemed ready to break out into a laugh at the slightest thing, but the image you try to bring to the scene fades, is gone. You start up the sewing machine again, push the dress through with your fingers, try to drown out the thoughts and sound of children playing, of their happiness and joy, their youthfulness, their innocence. You look up again at the vase of flowers on the windowsill, at the potted plant that Bruno bought for you. He wants more from you than you are willing to give, wants more than you can give any more. Since Kitty’s death, you are unable to respond that way, unable to let his touch feel your flesh, touch you anywhere. You have not made love to him since that dreadful day; have not even thought about that side of things with him anymore. You think of being away from him, going away to the coast, staying with Sally in her house near the sea. You stop the machine and stare at the dress on the table. It is a child’s dress, one you are making for a friend’s daughter. To know Kitty would have been that size now, she would have loved it, would have fitted well inside the cotton dress quite well. Tears swell in your eyes, you bite your lip, you want to cry out loudly so that the entire neighbourhood would hear, know your grief. You wish Bruno would go away, divorce you, say something harsh, something real, but all he does is attempt to make things as they were and it cannot be that way anymore. You will go to Sally, will stay with her, will share her bed as you did that summer of Kitty’s death. Warm, safe, and a completely new lifestyle, a different approach to love and ******* that you had not dreamed existed. The thought cheers you slightly, makes your groin tighten, brings images to mind you thought you had left behind. And Sally will say, Jane, you are all too pale, too thin, and warp you in her arms, kiss you and you will dissolve into her and her love and bed, and Bruno will be gone from you as Kitty is, but she will remain in your heart and memory, will be there beside you smiling, playing with her dolls, singing those songs she sang, as you and Sally drive away the dark days. You start up the machine again, gaze at the trees, push the dress through eagerly to its near completion, watch as seagulls linger over head, calling the welcome of sea and a safe haven, and Kitty’s touch on your arm, ghostly, but near, so near.

We come out of the cinema
like let loose young dogs of war
up and along the New Kent Road
the daylight blazing into our eyes

the roar of traffic in our ears
and on and up by Neptune's fish shop
-not to buy no more coins-
and wait by the crossing

both Enid and me waiting
looking at the opposite side
of the road at the bomb site
the opening of Meadow Row

good film wasn't it
Enid says
looking at me
through wire framed spectacles

her eyes bright not dull
as they usually are
no fear there yet
of her old man

traffic stops and we cross
the road and then run
onto and across the bomb site
I'm riding my imaginary

black horse shining like crude oil
and she just behind riding
her pretend white horse
-not side saddle like some lady

but like me on the saddle-
the whole world stops for us
we are riding a new Wild West
our guns firing at advancing

bad guys or maybe Injuns
with tomahawks
then she stops in her tracks
and stands there sans horse

eyes full of fear
what do I tell my dad?
she says
he doesn't know about the cinema

what do I say?
I look at her
my imaginary horse dissolved
and I walk over to her

see her visibly shaking
and I've been with you too
what can I tell him?
she says

I look at her standing there
her hands holding each other
her eyes fear glazed
say you've been with

some else to the park
what have you
she looks at me
I can't lie he knows if I lie

she says
create a truth
I say
what do you mean?

she asks
tell him you've seen
horses up West
up West?

yes West End of London
but he won't believe me
about that what horses he'll say
be creative tell him some

of what you've seen
she frowns
about the horses?
yes be inventive with it

she thinks
and we walk down Meadow Row
she looking at the ground
mind in thought

I look at her walking there
knowing she'll not get it right
no talent for the invented word
her old man will whack her sure

and as we walk up
through the Square
I see him on the balcony
standing by his door.

You walk along the beach with the sand between and beneath your naked toes, the sun touching your skin, the slight breeze feeling your hair. You stop and stare at the sea, the sound of the waves on the shore, like an old man breathing and sighing. There are no ships today; the horizon is bare; empty. You remember walking along this beach with Giles, his hand in yours, the promises he made, the laughs you both had, the look in his eyes, that smile he had. You smile briefly, wipe your small hand across your lips, try to recall that kiss, gone. The sun is high in the sky, blue with hints of white in the horizon, the sea, the far off places long out of reach. If only I hadn’t found that **** letter, you muse darkly, breathing deeply, sensing the sea air, the sharpness of it, the chill on the lungs, if only you hadn’t seen the words of his betrayal, his words of love to another, her of all people, she who had befriended you. Lies. All of those lies, you muse, those bits of truth and lies together, the devil’s mix, the lying *****, him saying those things to her, and to you he says another, liars both of them. You walk on along the deserted beach, your toes scrunching into the sand, the grittiness between the toes, the sharpness underfoot. We made love over there, you tell yourself, indicating an area of rocks, a secret place you thought was yours and his, where he had uncovered you and under those stars, moon and evening breeze, had entered you. You close your eyes and wonder if he brought her here, made love to her in that place, did to her what he did to you. The possibility haunts you, hurts deeply, drives to walk closer to the edge of the sea and shore. You want the sea to take you; want the waves to swallow you up and spit you up some miles down the coast. A lifeless body, a floating bloated cadaver. But that takes a courage you lack, a courage you do not have, despite your hurt and pain, despite your inner anger. You wish you had not read the letter from his pocket, had not searched, had not seen it and opened up the envelope. If only you had remained in innocence of his betrayal, innocent of all that filth and lies. His words to you that morning, as he rose from bed, as his arms left your side, were so loving, so kind. Ceili, he said, Ceili, you are the morning of my day. Such words. Such words said. The sun is warm on your face, the breeze a little chillier now, the sea a bit wilder, the waves touching your feet, touching your toes. What price betrayal? What reward? You wander along the shore, the sea touching you as he had done, feeling your flesh, sensing your life blood, you stop, turn back, empty your mind, vacate, the you, the memory of loss, the life of betrayal.

Janice holds
on her small
open hand

the yellow
canary
I watch it

standing there
on her palm
seemingly

not trying
to fly off
it talks words

she tells me
standing there
red beret

perched on top
of blonde hair
-I knew that

I'd heard it
taught it words
while Janice

was not there
in the room
naughty words-

but sometimes
Janice says
it utters

naughty words
and Gran says
who taught that

canary
such bad words?
not me Gran

I tell her
must be that
previous

owner's fault
I guess so
her gran says

I keep stumn
put on my
good boy face

saint like gaze
falling from
God's good grace.

Helen's hair
hangs dampened
by the rain

as we wait
underneath
the hawning

of a shop
on the way
home from school

her thick lens
spectacles
are smeary

so I can't
see her eyes
will it stop?

she asks me
I hope so
I reply

don't fancy
standing here
till bedtime

I look up
at the sky
grey and black

rain falling
I'm all wet
she mutters

even my
socks are damp
in my shoes

let's run then
I tell her
so we run

through the rain
splashing through
deep puddles

on pavements
she clutching
my wet hand

semi-blind
in her smeared
spectacles

rushing past
the shop fronts
our passing

reflections
in windows
quite ghostly

as in dreams
thunder claps
above us

from the sky
and Helen
loudly screams.

Perhaps tomorrow
I can hang
around with him
Sheila thinks of

the boy John
but after dinner
and bed
and dreams of him

and such
maybe then
it will be that way
she sits at the table

as her mother
brings meals
and she opposite
her brother

and  next to her father
on one side
and her mother
on the other

when she sits down
and all Sheila can do
is eat but ponder
on the boy

and what he will say
and she tries
to keep him at bay
in her mind

and thoughts
as she eats
but he keeps on
pushing through

into her thoughts
and being
and her brother says
why the long face?

what do yo mean?
the long face
he repeats
like you've lost

a long lost love
he adds laughing
you do look
kind of miserable

her father says
trouble at school?
no nothing
she says  

pushing her thin
wired glasses
up on her nose
where they'd slipped

long lost love indeed
her mother says
she don't need no
love nonsense yet

if at all
Sheila looks
at the clock
on the mantel shelf

the tick tock of it
trying to focus on
the tick tock
bet she's found

some boy to
swoon over
her brother jokes
holding his fork

half way to his mouth
don't know any boys
she says
don't want to either

she adds
good for you
her father says
enough to worry about

with school without
the added problems
with boys
and that lark

young girls
have no need of boys
her mother says
sitting regal in her chair

pushing back
a loose strand of hair
Sheila tries to smile
as if its' all a joke

as if I need a boy
to add to my life
and woes
what woes do you have

her father says
young kid like you?
she says nothing
forking in her meal

hoping the boy
will let her
go about
with him still.

I sat on the bank
by the pond-
or lake as Yehudit
termed it-

Yehudit lay on her back
with one leg stretched out
and the other bent
with the knee
pointing skyward

I watched dragonflies
skimming
the water's skin
then taking off
zig-zagging
then off
out of sight

that cloud
looks like a swan
Yehudit said

I looked up
looks like your mother
I said

that's not nice
she said
saying my mother
looks like a swan

it's the neck
that does it
I said

she looked at me
smiling
her neck is not
like that at all
she said

or maybe it's the beak
like her nose?

she slapped
my arm playfully
that neither
she said

now the clouds changed
I said
the swan has dissolved
or moved on

she became serious
I thought
I was in trouble
last week
she said

I gazed at her
why was that?

I was late
she said
looking at me
seriously

late for what?
dinner?
school?
lessons?

no I mean my...
you know...
my thingy

I watched
as a duck landed
on the water
and swam towards
the edge

thingy?
I said  

it was green
and yellowy feathered
it had a sense
of gracefulness
as it swam

my periods
she said

and that means?
I said
turning to gaze
at her

she sat up
and sighed
I thought
I was in
the pudding club
she said

o I see
I said
taking in
her features
the brown hair
a few loose strands
over one eye
her thigh visible
where the skirt
had moved down

but I was just late
it's ok now
she said
turning on her side
back to normal

I said nothing
it was a science
beyond me
another duck landed
on the water
skimming along
like an airplane
crash landing

must be careful
she said

guess so
I said

the image
of the duck's landing
and her thigh
stuck inside
my 14 year old head.