Ayez-vous
le temps ?

the dame
said to me

in Paris.
It's past

my bedtime,
I replied;

I really must
snuggle up

with teddy
and a glass of milk.

I look over
my shoulder

into the mirror
in the hall

and see
this old guy

staring at me
reminding me

of someone
I once knew.

Enid holds
the boiled sweet
Benny gave

in her hand
she opens
and closes

her small hand
feels paper
on her skin

sticky smooth
on one else
gives her sweets

but Benny
she's hungry
no breakfast

that morning
her father
had said no

too naughty
go without
now she sits

in the school
lavatories
the boiled sweet

in her palm
her stomach
grumbles noise

feels sickly
she unwraps
the boiled sweet

with fingers
and puts it
in her mouth

sweet juices
sugary
explosion

of flavours
on her tongue
she ***** it

turns it round
swallows down
the juices

on the wall
someone's inked
Mrs M

has a big
white bottom
Enid *****

more juices
then swallows
the boiled sweet

her stomach
still rumbles
as she looks

at paper
slightly soiled
by her feet.

My old man
took me
to the West End

it was evening
bright lights
from shops
and theatres
and such

I was dressed
in my best suit
my old man in his

a handkerchief
tucked in
my top pocket

my hair Brylcreemed
flat and tidy

we going
to see a film?
I asked

no we're going
to the amusement arcades
spend a penny or so
then have a drink
some place

see who's about
sometimes
you can see
a film star
here at night
in between shows
he said

I nodded
and gazed about me
usually we saw
a movie
took in some
old chestnuts
from a stall
on the roadside

once he took me
to some café
which sold pan cakes
and I ate them
with a sauce

we walked
the bright streets
he at my side
I taking in
all I saw
people passing
all different faces
and shapes

and then
there she was
Billie Whitelaw
I’d seen her
in a film or two
she was standing
between two guys
in suits

she looked at me
as I looked at her
then she was gone
in the crowd

and I said
to my old man
seen her

seen who?
he said

that actress

what actress?

Billie Whitelaw

huh?

she was just there
with two guys
walking along
in a white dress
I think
coat like fur

where is she now?
he said
peering about him

gone into the crowd
I said

he gazed
into the bright lit street
like some pilgrim
who had just
missed Christ
going by

he looked dumbfounded

I looked at the sky
don't know why.

My mother's
at the sink,
doing washing
or washing up,
I think.

My old man
made her cry
earlier that day,
but she’s humming now,
so must be OK.

I watch her
as kid's do,
study how
she moves her hands
to work and such,
but the old man
did not care
or do as much.  

My mother's
drying dishes,
eyes about to cry,
I look away
wondering
what or why?

My mother's
dead now,
laid to rest
with Jesus
or God or both
amongst the best.

Love the trains
Lydia said
love the smell

me too
I said

we'd gone
to King’s Cross station
and were sitting
watching people
come out of the trains
and getting on

wonder where
they're all going?
she asked

some place nice
I said

but where?

Edinburgh
or York
or Newcastle

how do you know?
she asked

it's written
on the board
back there
I said

she gazed
as passengers passed
us by

a porter went by
pushing a trolley

a man in a bowler
stared at us
as he went by
his nose in the air

my dad works here
sometimes
Lydia said
mostly he's at Waterloo

I looked at her
she was very thin
her lank brown hair
touched the collar
of her off white blouse

she sat there
moving her thin legs
back and forward

I bet that steam train
gets hot by the time
it gets to Edinburgh
I said

bet it does
she said

a steam train made
a loud hissing noise

wish we could go
to Edinburgh
she said
bet it's good there

one day we might
I said
go see the places there

stay in a hotel
she said
have a nice room

wonder if they
have haggis everyday?
I said
and porridge

yuk don't like them
she said
I’d like Cornflakes
or Puffed Wheat

a few people ran
for the train
and then it was all
still as the guard
raised his green flag

and the train began
to hiss and puff
and steam came out
of the train
as it began
to pull away

Lydia waved at it
as it pulled away

and I sniffed
in the steam
and smell
of the train

goodbye people
she said
enjoy Scotland

we stood there
on the platform
watching the train
go off
steam bellowing out
and then it was gone

and we stood there
kind of empty
as if part of us
had gone away

we'll go to Scotland
one day
I said holding
her thin hand
but not today.

Don't like dark tunnels
Janice said

it's a tube tunnel
trains come in
and out of it
I said

we were sitting
in the underground
train station
watching trains
come and go
while we waited
for our train
to Waterloo

I keep thinking
of monsters
coming out
she said
breathing fire

no just trains
I said
no monster

she ******* up
her nose
smells
she said

does a bit
I said
does in the cinema
sometimes
especially
in the afternoons
when you get
grown-ups
and some one
hasn't washed
for a while

she waved her hand
in front
of her small nose

her red beret
was on a slant
on her fair hair

when will our
train come?
she asked

when it arrives
I said

she didn't laugh
or smile
but when
will that be?

I looked at a clock
on a wall
3 minutes or so
I said

Gran said
not to get
in people's way
she wasn't going
to let me go

until I said
you were going
with me
and she said
O that's all right then
if Benny's with you

there you go then
I said
your gran's
got her head
on right

she stopped waving
her hand in front
of her nose
and put her hands
in her cardigan pockets

bit cold too
she said

you'd be a right one
to take on a polar trip
wouldn't you?
I said

are you going on
a polar trip?

no not yet
but maybe one day
when I'm grown up
and left school
I said

could I go?
she asked

if you don't moan
all the time
it gets cold
or windy
or short of grub
I said

she looked
at the tunnel
as the sound
of a train
sounded loudly

we stood up
gawking towards
the tunnel end

a wind blew our way
whoosh
and the train came
rushing onto
the platform
like some
big monster in red

(just a train really)
but a big monster
inside her head.

Bring the stones
with you
I said

Helen reluctantly
brought the stones
from the bomb site

(her mother said
about cat's peeing
on the bomb site
and stones)

she held them
in her small hands

where are we going?
she asked

I want to show you
this bombed out place
beyond the tabernacle

are we allowed?

sure as long
as we aren't seen
by the Rozzers
I said

she stopped
I am not
to get into trouble
mum said
not to
she said

we are adventurers
are we not?
we go where
others don't

no trouble
Mum said
she said
looking troubled

she put the stones
in her cardigan pockets
and wiped
her hands
on her skirt

you will get me
in trouble Benny

I won't
I said
I just want
to show you
this fireplace
in the bombed out house

she frowned
what's so special
about a fireplace?

it looks antique
I said
black with patterns
and such

she pushed her
thick lens glasses
back on her nose

I studied her deeply

your hair looks nice

it looks the same
as always
she said
too curly and thick

I like it

if you get me
into trouble Benny
I won't talk
to you again
she said

is that a promise?
I said

she sighed
we shouldn't go
to bomb sites
my mum said
7 year olds
aren’t safe there

I can get you
a 3d lolly afterwards
I said
and maybe
a 1d drink
from the Penny Shop

she looked at me
through her glasses
and tidied up
her hair

OK
she said
but I promise you
about not talking
to you again
if I get
into trouble

take care
of the stones
I said

she nodded
her brown curly
two plaited head.

Miss A held up the card
with a word on it

who knows
what this word is?
she asked

the class stared glumly
at the card

a girl put up her hand
is it monster?
she said

no it's not monster
Miss A said moodily

another girl
put up her hand
is it mouse?

O’Brien snorted
a laugh behind
his ink stained hand

it is not mouse
the teacher said
her eyes lifted
ceiling ward

I put up my hand

yes Benedict?
Miss A said

can I go to the bog Miss?
there was a titter
behind my back

yes you can
but no you may not
she said sternly

I pulled a face
she looked at me
I unpulled my face

anyone else
have any idea
what the word is?
everyone has one
she suggested

O’Brien whispered
to me a word
I could not repeat

what was that O'Brien?
Miss A asked

muscle Miss
he said
(not the word
he said to me)

no it is not that
look at the card
look look
she said

we gazed at the card
in her hands

who knows
the first letter?

a girl put up
her hand

it's M Miss
she said

and the second letter?

I put up my hand
it's O Miss
I said

she gazed at me
and the third letter?

Helen put
up her hand
it's T Miss
she said

already whispered O'Brien
ain't long had dinner

Miss A glared at him
the fourth letter O'Brien?

aitch
he said

Miss A sighed
H
she said
one breathes
the letter out
H not aitch
next letter?
she said

it's E Miss
a girl said
on the floor
sitting crossed legged

and the last letter?
Miss A asked

it's R Miss
O'Brien said

so what do all
the letters say?
she asked

Mobster
a girl said
with glasses
(who often
wet herself
if she couldn't make
the bog in time)

no no
Miss A said
look at the letters

I lifted my hand

and she said
yes Benedict?

I need the bog Miss

GO
she said loudly

and I got up
and sped as fast
as I could

just as I got
to the door

Dennis said
it's Muvver Miss

Miss A looked away
she looked
distressed

it had been
a long
hard day.

Miss Pinkie
(she had dropped
the Mrs
after her divorce)
undressed slowly

she was an older
and plumper version
of Marie Antoinette

I lay on her bed
looking at her disrobe

so why
did you leave
the convent?
I asked

things happen
she said
you realize
what you are missing
or will miss

the moon was held
in the corner
of her bedroom window
like a fresh minted coin

and what was that?

what was what?

what was it
you were missing
or feared
you might miss?

children
marriage
***
she said
plunging
on her side
of the bed
and I have my son
and maybe
a grandchild one day

she turned towards me
her big blue eyes
searching me

I smiled
she had a similarity
to a hippo sunbathing
on a river bank

Mahler was playing
from her Hi-Fi
in the lounge

she put a hand
on her hip
her ******* moved
like piglets at play

sure you don't want
another drink?
she asked

no I’m fine

she ran a finger
along my thigh

my pecker stirred
from its slumber

her fingers walked
along my groin
her nails
were bright red

she had
the kind of touch
that could have
raised Lazarus
from the dead.

Netanya had just
come back
after a week away
at her daughter's place
up country

and then brought
the daughter back with her
and the daughter
and her partner
had our room upstairs

we were on
the made up bed
on the floor downstairs

did you miss me?
she asked

of course I did

what did you
miss most?

your company

my company?

yes
and the ***
of course

of course
I missed you too
slept in a room
on my own
and thought about you
and had to cuddle
myself and pretend
it was you

we cuddled up
on the made up bed

what did you do?
she asked

I slept with Marilyn Monroe  
and had Liz Taylor
pop in now and then
to break up the monotony  
I said

no really
Netanya said
what did you do?

I hugged your pillow
and kissed it good night
and hugged it all night
until I woke up
and it was
on the floor

on the floor?

yes we must
have a had
a falling out

she laughed
and we made love

and the street lights
went out
and it was dark
and warm

and a dog barked
near by

and I saw
the pale moon
in her right
wide open eye.

Here's Odense
Dalya says
looks OK

the driver
parks the bus
(mini bus)
and we all
disembark

an hour
and be back
the driver
informs us

so we all
go our ways

I walk on
with Dalya
she gassing
about things
as she does

that Yank girl
in my tent
always on
about men
who she's had
what they've done
small details
about ***
makes me sick
Dalya says

what do you
say to her?
I ask her
as we sit
in a street
side café

don't say much
just listen
Dalya says
I don't know
what to say

I order
two coffees
the waitress
a young dame
writes it down
then goes off
I watch her
walk away
lovely ***
I’m thinking

why not tell
the Yank girl
about your
**** life?
I tell her

I don't have
a *** life
not like hers
Dalya says
anyway
I couldn't
just tell her

she tells you
about hers

I couldn’t
not details
not each part
like she does

our coffees
are brought out
to us both
the waitress
smiles at me
and walks off

what details?
what's she say?

can't tell you
Dalya says

you spoilsport

it's not that

tell me then

Dalya sips
her coffee
I sip mine
watching her
her dark hair
the stern gaze
her thin lips

she did say
something odd
I remember
Dalya says

what was that?

M&S;

M&S;

yes that's right
don't know what
it stands for
Dalya says
but she says
she likes it

Dalya sips
more coffee

I give her
my famous
Elvis smile

what's that for?
she asks me

whips and chains
and leather
and whipping
I inform
is what her
M&S;
is about

Dalya sits
open mouthed

***** cow
she remarks
who does she
chain and whip?

maybe she's
chained and whipped
by some guy
I suggest

God how gross
how could she?
how *****
and the fact
we share tents
Dalya says
quite concerned
I couldn't
she remarks

I guess not
I reply
recalling
an old flame
much older
who liked it
before ***

Dalya sips
her coffee
in silence
in deep thought

I sip mine
savouring
each mouthful

recalling
the old flame's
preference
of spanking
before ***
and the sound
like applause
in those small
concert halls.

Sonya posed
by the Eiffel Tower

I had my box
Brownie Cresta camera
I took a photo or two
trying to get her in focus
bring in the Tower
behind her

she smiled
and put her hands
on her hips
as dames do

her blonde hair
was bunched
behind her
in a ponytail
her face looked drawn

afterwards we went
for a coffee
at some bar
down by the Seine

and she sat there
with one leg
over the other
the foot dangling

I sat opposite
******* through
the French money
looking at the notes

you should read
Kierkegaard
she said
leave Nietzsche
to the Germans

I prefer Nietzsche
he's more realistic
I said

Kierkegaard
is more religious
and more positive
she said

the waiter came
and we ordered our coffees
and he went off

Kierkegaard
is Danish like me
she said

not so good looking though
I said
and he's been dead
sometime

she lit up a cigarette
and offered me one
I took and lit up
and inhaled

there's something
about Paris
I like
the atmosphere
the way these people
just live here
all this history
all the art
I said
as I exhaled smoke

cultural capital
of the world
she said

I listened
as she went on
about this artist
and that
and who did what
and when

as she spoke
the waiter returned
with our coffees
and went off again

I sipped mine
remembering her
coming out
of the bath
the night before
like some Venus
all stark and bare
shaking her head
letting loose
the water
from her long
blonde hair.

Abela
doesn't like
Schopenhauer
she finds him
depressing

why read him?
she asks me

I like him
he gives me
another
perspective
of the world

but why him?
who told you
about him?

some old dame
I once ******
talked of him

might have guessed
Abela said
who was she?

just a friend
I once had
I tell her

she's quiet
sips white wine
looks around
the street scene
around us
sitting in
the café

she's musing
quite deeply
as dame's do
of other
dames I’ve had

was she good?
she asks me

an ex-nun
I reply

an ex-nun?
she echoes

as a girl
not right now
I tell her

she's silent
sips her wine

Dubrovnik
has its charm

I sip beer
smoke my smoke
read my book
of old man
Schopenhauer

Abela
purred last night
like a cat
after ***
I like that.

There's a purity about
falling snow, Yiska said.
She was standing by
the window of the locked

ward, snow was falling,
trees captured some in
their branches, fields
were blanketed. I stood

next to her, gazing out,
smelling soap, stale
perfume. She stood in
her dressing gown,

open at the neck, holding
a cigarette between two
fingers. See they have
allowed you to dress,

she said, looking at me.
Yes, but still no belt or
shoelaces, I said. Do you
blame them? After your

history of attempted hanging?
No, I guess not. She looked
back at the snow. I can't
even have a bath without

one of the nurses sitting in
there with me, she said, in
case I slit my wrists in the
bath again. Red water.

Something dramatic
about red water.  I sniffed
in her cigarette smoke.
Calming. I can't believe

he jilted me at the altar,
she said after a few moments.
Me standing there in my
white dress like some doll,

and he didn't show. I wouldn't
have jilted you, I said. It
wasn’t you I was going to
marry. But thanks anyway.

Undone. Undo-able. The past
like a locked door to a room
you want to go back to and
change the furniture around.

Her smoke entered my lungs.
I felt it ease me. If it wasn't
for the fact that the ward is
locked, I would be out there

in that whiteness, standing
there, arms outstretched,
mouth open, she said. If I
get low can I borrow the

belt of your dressing gown?
I asked. Only if you distract
the nurse when I bath next
time, she said, gazing at me

with her drugged up eyes.
Sure, each waits until the
other dies. There's a purity
about falling snow, she said,

gazing back at the scene
outside. I stared at her: the
thin white abandoned bride.

We were allowed out
of the coach
to stretch our legs
and have a quick look
around Poitiers
in France

Miriam stretched
her arms out
and kicked out
her legs
almost got cramp
she said

I could have massaged
them for you
I said
I’m an expert
at massaging
away cramps

sure you are
she said smiling
but not
on the coach
it's too impersonal

we walked around
Place de Gaulle
looking in shop windows
and cafés and restaurants

how about some coffee?
I asked

if you're paying
she said

anything for a lady
I said

and what did you want
in exchange?
she said
putting her hands
on her hips

who said anything
in exchange
I just want to buy
you a coffee

she smiled
OK if you say so
she said

so we sat outside
a small café
and ordered
two coffees and cake
and the waiter went off

I lit up a cigarette

what's the book
you're reading
on the coach?
she asked

it's called The Apostle
I said

what's it about?

St Paul

isn't he the guy
who fell from his horse
or donkey
when a voice
called to him
at Damascus?

yes something like that
I said

why are you
reading about him?

he interests me
I said

why?

well he went
from being a persecutor
of what we call
Christians now
to actually joining them
and becoming one
of their leaders

enough already
she said
I heard he
was against ***
and all that

I guess
he was not keen
on the idea

and you want to read
about him?
*** is a brilliant thing
without it
no one would
be here
not even that Paul guy
she said

the waiter brought
our coffees and cake
and went off

beside
she said
you weren't practising
what this Paul guy
was preaching
on the coach last night

never said I was
practising anything
but it was dim
on the coach
and most others
were asleep

she ate her cake
and I recalled
the coach radio
playing some Mozart piece
the night before
while she and I
tried to explore.

The whole thing
about ***
Sophia said

is that it's so
liberating
it takes one
on a journey
of discovery
about oneself
and another

I watched her
brushing her hair
she was still in
her dressing gown

I sat on her bed
waiting for her
to get ready
to go out
after the ***
and her shower

I guess so
I said

light from a window
lit her up
with sunlight

she smelt
of bath oils

I had bathed after her
and I was dressed
and ready

the opening up
the release
of part of one
she said
the joining
with another

a Beethoven sonata
was playing
from her Hi-Fi

I liked it
it opened up
areas inside my head
mood changed me

of course animals
have *** more often
and they don't analyse
about it
I said

ah but we're
not animals
she said
least not all
there is that
part of us
which allows us
to analyse even
a good ****
she said

the word hung
in the air above
her head
like some
dark bird of fate

I gazed at her
brushing her hair
there her hand
and brush
her hair

I wanted
to have her
once more
or get out of there.

The hotel
was behind
Charing Cross

some back street
in some room
up some stairs

Nima says
it will do
the bed's old
I bet some
old queen slept
in this bed

and died here
I reply
lying down
on the bed

she lay down
beside me

that old dear
who gave me
this old key
gave me the
once over
as if she
understood
the reason
we are here
I tell her

course she does
I bet she's
outside now
listening
for the bed
to begin
making noise
Nima says

I get up
and turn on
the gas fire

then undress
watching her
by the one
small window
already
without clothes

her tight ****
her slim waist
visible
to my eyes
feasting them

my pecker
preparing
for the job
that's ahead
in the old
black metal
double bed.

I'll hold the window
in place
you ***** it
to the wall
my father said

he had the seriousness
of a professional
his dark hair and eyes
firm
rock like

I took a *****
and proceeded
to ***** the window frame
to the wall

my father
was engaged
in the work

I was thinking of Marion
the blonde
who sang
with a band sometimes
who I met some nights
over a drink

and she talked
about music
and how she
had a good relationship
with her father
and how she'd say
Daddy can I go
out dancing?
and he'd say
yes my crazy daughter
and she laughed

I sat there
just listening
seeing her
blue eyes shine
and her body pause
with life

and I asked
what about me
and you and bed?  

you mean ***?
she said

well yes
I said  

O my
I can't sleep
with anyone
not until I marry them
she said
that's like opening
a Christmas present
before Christmas
can't be done

so I put that idea away
and we just talked
and drank
and she sang
a few of the songs
she sang with the band
doing that wiggly dance
she did

her blonde hair sprayed
like a huge bouquet
of flowers

is it firmly in?
my father asked
you need a good *****
to hold it in place

yes that's what I
was thinking
I said
pushing the thought
of Marion
out of
my 17 year old head.

The small slit.
The thin knife

does its job;
the wrist is crimson

like an opening rose.

I can't believe
how raw I feel
despite the length
of unwound time.

The gripping heart,
like fingers
squeezing tight,
the same flow up
behind the eyes,

the same sensation
around the throat
like one about to choke,
like the inhalation
of flameless smoke,

the opening up
of wounds one thought
were healing,
that rawness,
that deep plunging in,
that cold hurt feeling
still sinking in.

O my dear one,
my dead son,
O you just beyond
my reach or seeming so,
tell me where you are
that I may go.

No, no,
I know,
time's hand
will tick it
soon enough,
I guess,
whether months
or years or countless
decades, like ocean's wide.

Still raw,
still seeking
that place to weep,
that place to hide.

She won't be long
Milka's mother said
she's just having a bath

I sat in the kitchen
of the farmhouse
a mug of tea
in front of me

that's OK no rush
I said
the film doesn't start  
yet a while

what are you seeing?

an Elvis film
I said

O I see
in my day
it was Robert Taylor
or Robert Mitchum
she said smiling
not that I went often
but now and then

she turned around
at the sink
and started peeling potatoes

I looked at photographs
on the shelves
one of the my mates
Milka's brothers
another of Milka
in a school uniform
frowning

Milka's mother was talking
about something
but I was thinking
of Milka
how she and I
made love at my place
when my parents
were out
the other week

now she was upstairs
in the bath
and I was downstairs
listening to her mother talking

you know Benny
she said
I trust you with Milka
she's a bit high spirited

but you are a good boy
I know you will keep her
on the straight and narrow
despite Elvis
she turned
and gazed at me

I put on
my butter wouldn't melt face
and sipped my tea

yes
I said
you can put
your trust in me
I won't let you down

I gazed at the photo
of Milka
with the deep frown.

Yehudit paused
momentarily
on her way
to the store

her husband
at her side

she looked over
it was him
by the fountain
sitting there

older now like she
but still he
Benny

she tried to take in
what she could

the Elvis quiff of hair
had gone
and what was left
was greying close

he had a stick
holding it
against him

her husband
looked around
but didn't comprehend
the rush of blood
to her head
her quickening
of pulse

she walked on
Benny had seen
and smiled
and she smiled back

almost within
that school girl again
seeing him
and that first kiss
that Christmas
many decades before
moonlight
clouds
grey

some were singing carols
but he and she
ah yes
that was something else
she recalled

but no more
and she
and her husband
entered the store.

She tries to knit.

Her mother
showed her how
times over time.

Tapping the knuckles
if she got it wrong.

Drops a stitch.

Puts down the knitting
on the school desk.

Angela her friend says:
Never got it myself;
all fingers and thumbs.

Yochana rubs her knuckles.

That Benny boy
is looking at you?
Angela says.

Is he?
Yochana says.

She daren't look.

Blush.

Feels it coming
at the mere thought.

She picks up
the knitting again
and begins to knit
(of sorts).

Still looking.
What's he looking for?
His friend's gazing too.
Couple of loons,
Angela says.
Don't bother with them.

Drops a stitch.

All fingers and thumbs.

Blushes, thinks of him
and that kiss.

Cheek ward.

Suddenly there
he was that day.

Kissed.

Now and forever
still there
the memory of.

She glances over
her shoulder.

He smiles
and mouths a kiss.

She looks away.

The blown kiss
runs down the back
of her neck,
she can sense it there,
damp, warm,
a light running feel
(between thighs)
a mild inner storm.

I would have placed my lips there
in Eve's dark valley
but Adam returned too soon.

Elaine folds
and unfolds
a flowered

handkerchief
in her lap
in the bus

(the school bus)
her sister
beside her

talking to
her best friend
Elaine knows

the boy John
sits near by
she can see

him if she
leans over
the seat top

but she sits
where she is
feeling down

and depressed
she'll tell John
when she can

what they say
the others
Old Frumpy

they call her
her hand smooths
the flowered

handkerchief
in her lap
corners neat

edges straight
it is John's
handkerchief

he gave it
when she cried
the last time

it was clean
and unused
when he gave

smelt of soap
and fresh air
it absorbed

her wet tears
when held there
and John said

at that time
the kiss was
meant to show

what I feel
and she can
(if she sits

quietly)
feel it still
on her lips.

Put your hand here
Yiska said

she took my hand
and placed it
on her stomach

it was soft
even through
the white school blouse
it was warm

I gazed at her
lying there
on the sports field grass
beside me
in lunchtime recess

the sound of other kids
on the field
ball games
tag games
others near by
talking
some laughing

what's it feel like?
she asked

a jelly
I replied

press a bit
she said

I pressed a little
my hand sinking inward
what's it feel like for you?
I asked

sensual
warming
she said
up higher  

she lifted my hand higher
just beneath
her tight small *******
and held it there

I feel your heart
I said

what else?
she smiled

a couple of small mounds
I said
what's it like for you?

like my heart
is going to break out
and sing
she said

I gazed over
her shoulder
a prefect was walking
our way
his beady eyes focusing
on us

best move apart
I said
the Gestapo are about

she moved away from me
just as the prefect
arrived at our feet

what are you two doing?
he said

talking about
the birds and bees
I said

looks like more
than that
he said
staring at Yiska

more than what?
she asked

more than talking
looked like he was
doing things
the prefect said

doing things?
Yiska said
what do you mean
doing things?

she sat up
and pulled down
her skirt
over her knees

the prefect looked at me
were you?

what?

doing things?

we were talking

and the rest
he said
I saw you
put your hand
on her

did I?
I asked Yiska

not that I remember
she said

the prefect  stared
at us both
then back towards
the school

well don't
he said
I’ll be watching

and he walked off
hands behind his back
his broad shoulders swaying

she smiled
eyes everywhere
she said

we lay back down
and gazed at the sky

I like puffy clouds
she said
they make funny shapes
sometimes

she pointed
with her thin finger
at the blue sky and clouds

I gazed at her finger
the pinky nail

that one
looks like an old man
in a bath
she said

I looked at the sky
that one's
like two dogs
*******
I said

the sports field echoed
with the sound
of her loud laugh.

Yehudit sits
at the front
of the school bus
with her sister.

I sit with Goldfinch
on the left hand side
half way down.

She turns
and smiles at me.

Her eyes glimmer
like moonlit waves.

Goldfinch talks
of football.

I hate football
but pretend
to like it,
throwing a few names
I know
into the conversation
to keep away
the silence.

The driver turns
on the radio.

A song about Mr Postman
and a letter comes on.

I look up at her.

She looks at me
the smile still there.

I wish she was here
next to me
instead of Goldfinch;
her thigh touching mine
as we sit,
her elbow brushing
against mine
in conversation.

Her smile seems to say:
remember yesterday?
I remember.

My lips holding
her lips in the that
first kiss.

Her body close to mine.

A pulse racing through me
like a chased cat.

I wish she was here
and not there.

I look up
and she has turned
to the driver and talks.

I wish it was me
she was talking to do,
my eyes
she was gazing into.

I look away
and catch a word
that Goldfinch throws.

How deep love sinks
and holds
no one knows.

Some days you try to
Imagine baby’s
Still there, still within

You. Still kicking, still
Moving, the small lump
Growing larger, the

Appetite for odd
Things still on your tongue.
But you know it’s gone,

The stillness like a
Vast universe, all
Quiet with dead stars

And galaxies and
Cold dust. You try to
Pretend the baby’s

Kicking, watch for the
Lump to move, hope the
Death was a bad dream

Drawn out over months,
The doctors lying,
The nurse pretending

That baby had died,
No happy ending.
Some nights if you lay

Quiet and have no
Act of will to doubt,
You can feel it still.

Lizbeth dreams
of Benny

having him
in her bed

just for kicks
her parents

down the stairs
in the lounge

unaware
she's upstairs

with Benny
having ***

in her bed
the first time

at long last
so she dreams

inside her
13 year

old young head
Benny dreams

of Spitfires
in dogfights

or finding
in hedgerows

a blackbird's
nest and eggs

all untouched
or holding

in his palms
a Peacock
butterfly

wings unspoilt
settled there

he dreams not
of Lizbeth

or of ***
anywhere

not in church
or her bed

and knows not
what's inside

his 13
year old head.

What's that
on your collar Sutcliffe?
O’Brien said

you got some
amorous sweet girl Eddie?
Danny D said

what is it?
I can't see
Eddie said

lipstick
I said
red stuff

where where?
he said
pulling at his white
shirt collar
with the red lipstick mark

he opened his shirt collar
and pulled it downward
how'd that get there?
he asked

your cousin still
staying with you
is she Eddie?
Danny said smiling

no not her
not that bucktooth *****
Eddie said
it must have been
my mum
she insists on
kissing me
before school

can't bring herself
to kiss your spotty skin
so kisses your collar
Danny said

she must have missed
Eddie said
how do I get it off?

who with?
O’Brien said
I ask that question myself
who's the lucky girl

what you talking about?
Sutcliffe said
how do I get
the lipstick off?

God knows
Danny said

soak it salt maybe
I said

but now
how now?
Eddie said

we walked on
toward school
Eddie rubbing
at his collar
with a greying handkerchief

that's the last time
she's going to kiss me
Eddie said

the red lipstick had smeared
more like a stain

it's worse now
I said
looks like a wound

thanks
he said thanks

you did it
not me
I said

what am I going to do?
can't go to school
like this

go home and change then
O’Brien said

I can't my mum's
gone to work
he looked at us
all tearfully

it's just lipstick Sutcliffe
no one's going to care
Danny said

of course they will
he said  
especially Thompson
you know what he's like
he'll have out front
for a right pasting
if he sees me

come back to my place
I said
my Mum'll put it
into soak
and you can wear
one of mine

you'll be late
Danny said

you go on
I said
we'll get a bus
we can make it
if we run

O’Brien looked at me
you're all heart Benny
all heart

so Eddie and I
ran back to my place
and he took off his shirt
which my mother
put in soak
and he wore
one of mine
and off we rushed
to school on the 78 bus  

Eddie all wide eyed
and I saw Fay
going to school
with her swaying hips
and blonde hair
and all I could do
was give
a keen eyed stare.

Jane and I walked
to the nearest village
to get some shopping
for the parents
and get fresh air
and talk

what do you think
of the countryside now
after living in London
for so long?
she asked me

I’ve got used to it now
no street lights
no traffic noise
no noisy neighbours
or drunks as there was
in our part of London
I said

or the sound of trains
going over
the railway bridge opposite
or the trucks being shunted
all night
in the coal wharf

now its so quiet
so peaceful
and no pavements
on the side
of the roads here

she smiled
I’ve lived here
all my life
it's as I know it

I looked at her
sideways on
she was wearing
a grey dress and boots
and an open green coat

I wore my jeans
and shirt and jacket

I liked her dark hair
her deep eyes

why do you look at me
like that?
she said

a cat can look at a queen
I said

I’m no queen

I’m no cat
it's just a saying
people have

your mother
seems to like me
I said

she trusts you
unlike some
of the boys around here
Jane said

I nodded

and Daddy said
he can see
you have a honest eye

I looked away
the hedgerows
were high
a blue sky
a bright sun
birds flew
from hedgerows

we came near the village
and I hoped
we could buy a drink
from the grocery shop
and maybe get
to be nearer to her

her hand just inches away
the fingers slim
with unpainted nails
and her lips parted
just enough to see
the gleam of teeth

I felt undone
in love
unsure
just to be there
watching the flow
and slight wind
in her dark hair.

Fay met me
at end of the New Kent Road
after school

I told her I’d walk
not get the bus
(I'd spent the fare money
on doughnuts that morning)

she was in her uniform
the posh Catholic school
her parents said
she had to go to

how's it going?
I asked her

she pulled a face
usual stuff
had to learn
all about
the Assumption
of the Blessed ****** Mary
into Heaven
she said

sounds fascinating
I said
glad I missed it

she smiled
no it was interesting
and an item
of our faith
but it's the way
the nun kept on
about it
and pointing
her finger at us
as if we would go to Hell
if we forgot one idea
she said

I know what you mean
Mr J is the same
about science
his beady eyes search us
like some new day Cromwell
what the heck
do I care what chemical
goes with what

we crossed over the road
and down by some shops
I want to show you something
I said

what is it?

you'll see

the last time you said that
you showed me a dead rat
she said

well it was dead
I said

I know but you didn't
have to swing it
by the tail towards me

I smiled
yes crazy thing to do

we came to the shop window
and I showed her
the item

a stamp album?

yes I thought
I’d collect stamps again
I said

she gazed at me
better than firing
that catapult of yours

and it's quite cheap
only 2/-

have you got 2/-?

not yet
but if I do
a few chores
I can get it I guess

lucky you
she said
I do chores
and get nothing
except build up
my bank account
in Heaven
my father tells me
by good deeds

sounds cool
only I like to see
the money now
I said

we walked on and down
Meadow Row
she told me all about
the Assumption
of the Blessed ****** Mary
and I listened to the sound
of her voice
like some sweet melody
going round
in my brain

and when she'd finished
I said
tell me again.

Sarasota Beach.
You’d been to this place
Before, long before



You’d met Earl or his
Sour sister Pearl
Or her friend Mrs



Gillespie for this
Picnic on this stretch
Of sand. When was that



Now? A girl then. And
Not picnicking. Who
Was it with back then?



The Milton boy? Yes.
Him with the dark hair
And big blue eyes. You’d



Walked this beach hand in
Hand thinking it love,
Thinking you’d found the



Core to your being.
Didn’t of course. It
Hadn’t got too far.



You kissed, held hands, spoke
Words, laughed, caressed, but
Nothing more. Least ways



You didn’t want to,
Not then, not with him,
Just like that. You stare



Out at the sea now.
Earl says, what are you
Gazing at? Ain’t you



Seen the sea before?
Pearl sits quiet, deep
In thought. Maybe she



Had an adventure
Of love here, who knows.
Mrs Gillespie



Eats away and speaks
Small talk between large
Mouthfuls. You recall



The Milton boy for
His ardent attempt
At going further,



Trying to venture
Beneath your dress back
Then. Smacked his hand of



Course. He stopped, withdrew
His hand, frustrated
And sulked. Never got



His way though.  He boiled
Up inside, you guess.
Went with that Kelly



Girl not long after,
Maybe she gave way,
You don’t know. Smiled a



Far bit after that,
The Milton boy, her
On his arm, looking



At you with that look
Of his. You look back
At Earl and watch him



Eat, holding a dull
Conversation with
Mrs Gillespie



Between bites. The sea
And wind seem the same,
The gulls, the smell of



Sea and salt and a
Long lost age. Aren’t you
Going to eat? Earl



Says. Plenty here, he
Mutters. Pearl stares at
The sea. Maybe she



Had a lover once,
But lost it all, you
Muse, just like me.

I gazed into her deep eyes;
there men's souls were lost;
love was there, but what the cost.

Touching the cloth of the Christ
in the darkened room
holding back from the black gloom.

I sat next to Anne
on the lawn
by the round white table
after breakfast

she was rubbing
the stump of her leg

I ate my toast

Sister Bridget
came over to us

what was all the fuss
last night?
she asked Anne
staring at her
with stern eyes

my leg hurt

your leg has been amputated
there is no leg
the nun said

it still hurts
even if it isn't
****** there
Anne said

language
I will not have
bad language
the nun said

I said ******
that's not a swear word
I should know
I’m an expert
in foul language
Anne said

you did not
have to make such a fuss
you woke up
the other children
in the dormitory
and Sister Elizabeth said
you used
foul language then

Anne shifted in the chair
rubbed her stump

I finished my toast
gazed at them both

it hurts here too
Anne said
raising her skirt
to reveal the stump

put your skirt down
the nun said firmly
Benedict doesn't want
to see your stump

I looked away
carrying the sight
of her stump with me

he doesn't mind
he's always gawking
at my leg
Anne said

enough of that
the nun said

that's what I tell him
but he doesn't listen
Anne said
poking me
in the ribs smiling

I don't
I said
looking at the nun
with my Mr Innocent features

I suggest young lady
you go to see Sister Agnes
about some painkillers
for the pain
the nun said
avoiding looking at me

I will
Anne said

and better manners my girl
the nun said
and walked off
across the lawn

silly old crab
Anne said
here give me your hand
and she shoved my hand
on her stump
and rubbed it
back and forth

I tried to pull
my hand away
but she held it there

don't fuss so Kid
take it as
the pleasure it is

I watched the nun stop
over by the slide
and talk to two other kids
sensing my hand moving
over warm skin

if the old bat saw this
Anne said
she'd call it
a ****** sin.

There's a hair on your old shirt
part of the dead you.
It's there still: black against blue.

Ingrid stares
at the sea
the wild waves
the seagulls

we've come down
on the coach
from London
organised
by the church
of gospel
worshippers

what are those?
she asks me

they're seagulls

do they bite?

I don't know
want ice cream?

her brown eyes
gaze at me

no money
she tells me

I’ve got some
I tell her

is there lunch?
she asks me

I think so
there's money
from the church
for us kids
from poor homes
I tell her

her brown hair
is pinned back
by steel grips

she smiles wide
her rather
mild buckteeth
beam at me

fish and chips?
she asks me

I guess so

can I be
your girl friend
for the day?

want ice cream?

O yes please
she utters

I go get
2 ice creams
from a van
parked near by

what you want?
the guy asks

2 ice creams
with choc flakes

I watch him
fill 2 cones
with ice cream
then plonk in
2 choc flakes

I walk back
to Ingrid
here you are
I tell her

she takes one
and we walk
on the beach
in the sand
8 year olds
hand in hand.

I saw Enid’s old man
leave the flats

morning grey
chill
sky
cannon smoke colour

he walked down the *****
I gave an
up you finger sign
once he'd gone

and I went upstairs
to Enid’s flat
and knocked
at the door

the door opened
a narrow slit
Enid's mother
peaked at me
through the gap

what do you want?
she asked

can I borrow sugar
for my mum?
I said

she hesitated
gazed at me

guess so
wait there

and she went
and closed the door

I gazed over
the balcony
the milkman's horse
was eating
from a nosebag

some kids were playing ball
by the pram sheds

the door opened
and Enid showed
with a bag of sugar

how much you need?
Enid asked

I gazed at her thin frame
her hand shaking
a slight bruise
over her right eye

I saw your old man go
I said

she looked at me
with wide eyes

had a go at you I guess

she said nothing
offered me
the bag of sugar

aren't you cold
standing there
in that white nightie?
I asked

a bit

can I come in?

she shook her head
best not
she said
Mum's not up to visitors

OK
I said

I took the bag of sugar
and she stared at me

see you at school
I said

she nodded
and closed the door

I walked downstairs
no more bruises
I mused
than I'd seen before.

Enid waits
in her room
shivering

listening
for the time
and the sound

her dad leaves
home for work
her thin cloth

white nightdress
providing
no close warmth

her body
screams with pain
discipline

disciplined
her dad said
half hour back

beating her
when he's gone
she'll breakfast

(her mother
will provide)
but for now

she just waits
by the door
listening

feeling cold
her stomach
now groaning

she'll not tell
anyone
but Benny

the boy who
lives downstairs
will ask her

had breakfast?
and he'll look
for bruises

of colours
and he'll know
her father

has had her
she listens
the old white

radio
plays music
some Mozart

then its off
and silence
she cringes

holds herself
then he's gone
the door slams

she opens
her room door
and peers out

her mother
by the stove
one black eye

and thick lip
in the sink
water goes

from the tap
drip drip drip.

Watching trains?
Lydia's
old man says
where abouts?

Waterloo
I tell him

I smell beer
on his breath
as he sways
on the step

Lydia
stands behind
her old man
gazing through
the narrow gap
between his
arm and chest

why watch trains?
he asks me

we like trains
I tell him
the steam trains

he stares hard
hands on hips
this right Kid?
he asks her
looking down
with glazed eyes

yes Daddy
she replies
timidly

ok Kid
you can go
but you boy
keep her close
keep her safe
he tells me

sure I will
I tell him

you'd better

course I will

he goes in
grumpily
walking slow
down the hall

Lydia
looks at me
her small frame
seeming so
under fed

let's go then
I tell her

she lets loose
a small smile
and we go
through the Square
down the *****

enough coins
for the fare
on the bus

and maybe
2 doughnuts
1 coffee
and 1 tea.

Catapult
small penknife
a few stones
handkerchief
piece of string
1/-
on the grass
by Banks House

is that it?
Janice asks

it's all there
I reply

why do boys
carry stuff
in pockets?

essentials
that is all
I tell her

she sits there
on the grass
in her green
summer dress
with that red
cloth beret
in her lap

what do girls
carry then
in pockets?

she empties
a pocket
in her dress
one hanky
one boiled sweet
her gran gave
and 3d

and that's it
she tells me

can I have
the boiled sweet?
I ask her

if you like

she unwraps
the boiled sweet
and puts it
in my mouth

we could go
to the beach
next Monday
if your mum
says you can
Janice says

I study
her blue eyes
there're white clouds
captured there

I’ll ask her
I reply

a pigeon
flies on by
flapping wings

inside me
deep inside
something sings.

Helen pushed
the old black doll's pram
over the bomb site
her doll Battered Betty
covered by a wool
knitted blanket

I blew my peashooter
at a tin can on the wall
of a bombed-out house

maybe we can have
our house built here
she said

the tin can fell
to the ground
a with a hollow crash
as I hit it
with a split-pea

where?
I said
looking round at her

here on this bomb site
she said
nodding to the area
around her

I didn't ask why “we”
I put another tin can
on the wall and aimed
with the peashooter

she began to wander around
leaving the doll's pram
behind her

here could be our kitchen
she said
standing in an area
of bricks and chickweed
but with no bath in it
as we have at home
but a separate bathroom
like they do
in posh houses

I blew the peashooter  
at the tin can
and it fell
with a clatter

what do you think Benny?

I looked at her standing
with hands on her hips
her brown hair parted
into two plaits
her NHS glasses
thick lens
her eyes enlarge
gazing at me

looks ok to me
I said
unable to see anything
but brick and chickweed
and old stones

and maybe a sitting room
over here
she said
walking a few paces
to her right
and a fireplace here
one of those modern ones

yes I can see it now
I said
looking at her drab
green raincoat unbuttoned

can you?
she said excitedly

and bedrooms
how many?
I asked

she looked around her
scratching her
seven year old head

how many children
will we have?
she asked

how many did you want?
I asked

loads
she replied
looking around her

I pocketed my peashooter
and small bag
of split peas

how do you get them?
I asked

she looked at me
frowning
don't know
she said
don't you know?

I shook my head
I’m a seven year old boy
how the heck
would I know

she walked a bit more
maybe four bedrooms
just to be sure
she said

I looked at her walking
further on
her Wellington boots
mud splashed

let's go
get a couple of 1d drinks
I’m thirsty
all this talk
of houses and kids
I said

ok
she replied
but we'll have to
sort things out soon

I thought of the John Wayne film
my old man
was taking me to see

she thought(no doubt)
of curtain colours
and matching stuff

I walked on
as she walked behind
with pram and Betty
I had had enough.

Miss Pinkie
pours me scotch
in a glass

any ice?

no thank you
I slip slow
allowing
to swirl round
my twenty six
year old mouth

she sits down
beside me

she wears that
polka dot
red short dress
and the blue
cardigan
her dyed brown
cropped hair style

want music?

got Mahler?

yes of course
she gets up
and puts on
a Mahler
symphony
on her old
gramophone

as she bends
I spy red
underwear
unattached
to the light
brown stockings

she comes back
and sits down
Mahler starts
lights are low

can I smoke?

sure you can
she replies

I light up
so does she

how is she?
she asks me

who is that?

the slim girl
at the home
pretty thing
all brains but
no knockers
Miss Pinkie
says softly

we just talk
I reply

about what?

poetry
modern art
politics

is that all?

yes that's all

she inhales
and stares cool
exhaling

any ***?

of course not
not with her

why not her?

I don't know

we're silent
Mahler plays
we smoke on
sip whiskies

I study
her two chins
her blue eyes
her thick thighs

the last time
we had ***
she mutters
it was good
on the couch
till you fell
to the floor
half way through

she was right
'bout that night

MAN LIFEBOATS
MAN OVERBOARD
she shouts out
too loudly

she stubs out
the wasted
cigarette
so do I

how about
my big bed?
she asks me

if you like
I reply
thinking of
the slim girl
with the brains
and hot ***
in the back
of her car

that image
in my head
as we walk
to her bed
her plump ****
swaying slow
to Mahler
the moonlight
in the sky

this is how
the world ends
no big bang
just a long
drawn out sigh.

Netanya smoked
and sat on the settee
her husband sat by the fire
his friends had come around
there was general chat
and laughter

I sat next to Netanya
watching the others
drinks were offered
I had a scotch and ice
Netanaya's husband
handed the drinks around

Netanya touched my thigh
unseen by him

and I said to him
I’m your man for that job
don't think of asking
anyone else
her husband said
to the others
it could be a big job
he added

her hand moved
along my thigh
squeezing me now
and then her daughter
saw her touch my thigh
I could see the amusement
in her eye

how long will you have to wait?
Netanya said

her husband looked at her
(her hand removed now)

I don't know
but it looks promising
he said

I knew you were the guy
for the job
the friend said

his wife
some dull looking dame
nodded

Netanya placed her hand
on my back
and rubbed it sexually

what do you think Benny?
Netanya's husband asked me

I guess you're the guy
by what Netanya tells me
I replied

he smiled
and sipped his drink

his wife's hand
was touching my ****
rubbing circular
in motion

we'll have to wait see
what happens
her husband said
never know
where things might lead

my pecker stirred
Netanya smiled
her daughter looked at me
frowned

I looked away
trying to keep
my pecker under control
watching the dull dame
over the way
having her dull worded say.

Dalya holds
the tall glass
of coffee
at the bar
looking round
the café

Ravensburg
I’ve marked it
on my map
she utters
just to see
where we've been
on this trip

I sip beer
looking in
the mirror
opposite
my hair's long
so's my beard
my eyes tired

long way yet
I tell her
there's Denmark
there's Sweden
and Norway

she thinks of
all the sights
on the way
through Europe

I think of
all the stops
all the bars

the shared nights
the hot ***
in the tent
on the thin
sleeping bed

the mornings
waking up
a bird song
from outside
and she there
still sleeping
by my side.

Sonya stood
on the narrow balcony
of the hotel room in Paris

I lay on the bed
reading Celan poems

she was in her underwear
and bra
smoking
a French cigarette

most of the great artists
lived here
at one time or other
she said

I looked over at her
her blonde hair
touched her haunches
her tight ****
smiled at me

most yes
I guess so
I said

can we go
to an art gallery today?
she said
I love the Impressionists
this is the place
to see them

guess so
I returned to the book

where are we breakfasting?

where you like

she exhaled
that little café
on the corner is good
she suggested

you like the waiter
the guy with the Proust moustache

nonsense
it's the coffee
the cake he provides
she said

she gazed back at me
aren't you going to wash
and dress?

I nodded
after you

you're quicker
she said

she was right
ok
so I got up
and went into the bathroom
and washed
and brushed my teeth
and came out

she was on the bed
looking at the book
of poems

how do you
make sense of this?
she asked

open minded
and getting the vibe

she put the book down
and went in the bathroom

I dressed
lit a cigarette
and stood
by the window
looking down
into the Parisian street
below

I love Paris
I mused
love all this
and blew
a passing French girl
a palm blown kiss.

There's butter
on her lip
from the toast

and bread crumbs
on her cheek
where fingers
have been there

and she moans
endlessly
about my hair
or my beard

Abela
I tell her
there's a blob
of butter
on your lip
at the top
hanging there
for dear life

and those books
that you read
she moans on
those deep books
with long names
of writers
why read them?

I like them
I reply

as she talks
the butter
on her lip
rides like some
horse breaker

Abela
how's the toast?

she gazes
at the toast
in her hand

it's quite good
she replies

the butter
is still there
on her lip
hanging like
some kid's fresh
smooth bogey

I see it
look away
nothing more
I can say.

Yiska sits
in the bath
off the ward

no water
just sits there
all depressed
**** naked

scars on wrists
suicide
reminders

I stand there
by the door
never locked
the bathroom
on the high
risk locked ward

didn't know
you were here
I tell her

she looks up
you do now
but who cares
what’s to see
you've not seen
she mutters
got a smoke?

I give her
my packet
of French smokes

she takes one
I light it
and light one
for myself

we inhale
in silence
her pink scars
like medals
on her wrists

her small *******
hang lonely
her *** bush
between thighs
visible

you best go
she tells me
just in case
the nurses
come along

you OK?

I'll be fine
she replies

OK then
hold in there
I tell her
walking off

I don't mind
that you're here
she whispers
we're soul mates
on death's ship
on rough seas
drowning deep

I go in
and kiss her
on the arm
then return
to the ward
of chill dawn
waiting for
my new life
to be born.