Morocco
some base camp
by a beach

in 19
70
a small bar

Miriam
sitting there
drinking her

Bacardi
and small coke
wearing that

very snug
bikini
coloured red

like her hair
of tight curls
up one end

a very old
Moroccan
was strumming

a guitar
him smoking
cannabis

happy guy
what's that stink?
Miriam

says to me
cannabis
I tell her

how'd you know?
A girlfriend
I once had

smoked the stuff
how could she?
Miriam

says to me
I don't know
she just did

I sip my
Bacardi
and smoke my

cigarette
she looks neat
in her snug

bikini
but neater
out of it.

Sophia sorts through
her parents' room;
they're out for the day,
some Polish old comrades

meeting of her father's,
old war pals. She opens up
the old wardrobe, sorts
through things, takes out

her mother's old dresses
and some new ones, puts
them on the bed. She likes
a red one, old but well kept.

She ponders, she decides
to try it on. She undresses
from her own jeans and top
and puts on the old red dress

and looks at herself in the
wardrobe mirror. Her mother
must have been her size back
then, it fits like it was made

for her. She does a twirl, looks
back at her ***, her thighs,
turns to the front and stares
at her *******. She doesn't

remember her mother wearing
the dress, not a dress she recalls
her mother wearing at all. She
looks down, it comes just below

the knees, although she's taller
than her mother, so it would
come lower on her mother.
She embraces herself as if

Benedict were there behind her
putting his arms around her
and breathing on her neck.
She stares at herself in the mirror;

stares at her full length. She
smells the material. It smells
of stale perfume, but not horrible
or clammy. She walks around

the room in it; looks at herself
in the mirror across the room.
She'd ask her mother if she could
borrow it, but then she'd have to

say she'd been in her mother's wardrobe
and that would cause hell with her
father and she didn't want that. She
take off the dress and stands there

in her bra and *******, and puts the
dress back on the hanger, and puts
it back with the other dresses where
she found it the wardrobe, in the right

place, and pushes the clothes back as
far as shes can recall in the order they
were, and closes the wardrobe door.
She dresses back in her jeans and top.

She pauses by the bed. The crucifix over
the bed. The Crucified staring down
pityingly. She touches the bed with her
fingers. She'd like to bring Benedict here;

make love here. But not after last time
in her room and her parents came back
after and that was too close. And some
neighbour had split on her and said

they'd seen young man and her come
here while her parents were out and her
father gave her the third degree over it.
Her father said she can only bring the

boy when they were home. Couldn't bring
Benedict back for *** while they were
downstairs sitting watching TV and
drinking their wine and such, and not

in her parent's bed, not beneath the
Crucified, except in her blonde haired head.

Nima waits
in her bed
on the ward

it's twilight
and she feels
a great urge

for some ***
but Benny
is at home

at his place
and others
on the ward

are sleeping
all women
some are old

few are young
even the
young night nurse

in her small
cramped office
off the ward

seldom comes
to visit
at that hour

she tries to
picture in
her dazed mind

Benny there
beside her
kissing her

holding her
his fingers
exploring

her body
his wet lips
on her neck

on her *******
on the dip
of her *****

on her *****
but he's not
there at all

just her lips
wet kissing
where she can

O Benny
come to me
be my man.

We sit by the river
on the grassy bank
our bikes parked by trees

Milka says
no ***
Auntie Flo's come

I look at the water
who's she?
I say

she looks at me darkly
my bad week
she says

I look at her
is that why you
were so long
coming down
this morning
while your mother
was giving me
the works?

What do you mean
the works?
She says moodily

you know
tea and biscuits
offering me stuff
being nice
talking warmly
walking quite seductively
across the room
I say

so while I was having
to bathe myself clean
and stuff
she was coming on
to you?

That's a bit strong
just being nice to me
I reply

she fancies you I bet
if she wasn't
so ancient
she'd be at your door
Milka says

jealous of
your mother?
I say  

no annoyed that she
has the nerve
and with you
for encouraging her
you should take pity
on her not
encourage her
Milka says

she pouts her lips
and stares ahead
at the flowing river

I just sat there
didn't have to
encourage her
the tea was nice
and the biscuits
quite scrumptious
I say

aren't I nice
and scrumptious?
She asks
turning and gazing
at me

shame about Auntie
I say
and it is such
a lovely day
and the grass
is quite tall over there
and well that's it
I guess

yes it is
she says
so make the most
of me as I am
and be nice

she kisses me
and we lay down
on the grass
and make the most
of what we have
and curse Auntie's arrival
and she thinks
of what may have been
and I think of her
and try to keep
my thoughts
quite clean.

I sit on the grass
of the playing field
at high school

hey Naaman
Ro says
who's the skirt?

he points over the field
at a girl
looking at me
searchingly

no idea
I say
why?

she's been gazing at you
for ages
he says

I look at her
standing there
dark hair
sad looking face
gazing back at me

I saw her in the playground
the other day
when it was beginning to rain
and I called out to her
I remember now
I say

Ro shrugs
so what?
she's just a piece of skirt
he says
how about a kick around
with a ball?
he asks

sure I’ll be there
in a minute

he goes off
with the ball
to join other boys
on the field
calling him

I watch him go
then look at the girl
she looks away

I walk over to her
hands in my pockets
put on my Elvis smile

she hesitates
as I approach
you ok?
I ask

she looks at me
her eyes are dark
as her hair
deep and warm

just looking at you
that's all
she says
nothing wrong
in looking is there?

no nothing wrong
I say
want to have a walk?  

she looks at her feet
the shoes are well worn
the black faded

your fiends might not
like me with you
if you want to play
their ball game
she says
not looking at me

we can walk
no harm done
I say

she looks at me
her eyes are shy

don't know
she says

ok
I say
up to you

I begin
to walk off

wait
she says
I guess I could
walk with you

I wait for her
she comes beside me
and we walk away
from the boys
and their ballgame
and along the fence
towards the play area
with seats and benches
along the walls

I feel her nervousness
she seems tense

relax
I say
I won't bite

we walk by the wall
she says nothing
her eyes on the ground

you got any
sisters or brothers here?

she shakes her head

what's your name?
I ask

Shoshana
she replies
looking across
the playground
your is Naaman isn't it?
she says

yes
I say
how did you know?

I heard someone
call you the other day
she says

I want to touch her
feel her hand or arm
or maybe talk longer
but she seems out
of her comfort zone
and I hold back

best go now
she says

and walks off
back to the girls' area
and I watch her go
holding on
to the slight perfume
she had
I sniff it in it
breath in into me
it's not bad.

She doesn't know
what time
his school bus arrives
but she waits

by the school gates
nervously
biting her nails
looking at the place

the buses come
other kids arrive on foot
to school
but no bus

as yet
and Sheila starts
to wonder
what she'll say

when the bus arrives
and the boy John
descends
and she there

facing him
and he'll look at her
and will he remember
the day before

and her asking
if she could hang
around with him?
the sky looks overcast

dark clouds
she hopes it will not rain
or she'll not be
on the playing field

to see him lunchtime
or anytime
she hopes it will
stay fine

what's the matter
with you this morning?
her mother had asked
over breakfast

you look like you've
found sixpence
and lost a pound
nothing she had said

trying not
to be too anxious
about meeting
the boy John

even as she washed
and dressed that morning
he was there
in her thoughts

and now as she waits
by the gates
kids pass her by
gawking at her

standing there
with her thin wire glasses
and metal grip
at the side

of her hair
then a school bus comes
towards the school
and her nerves take hold

and she stares and looks
for the boy John
and what she thinks
are his good looks.

Yochana says she plays
beautiful music
but I have no way

of knowing unless
she plays for me  
so we get

to the music room
in school before
Miss G arrives

and Yochana opens up
the piano and sits
and begins to play

some classic stuff
her thin fingers
going over

the keyboard
with ease
making beautiful music

I watch her sitting there  
I'm by the door
as look out

taking in the music
looking up
the corridor

then back at her playing
her thin body moving
gently side to side

her hands moving
back and forth
visible then invisible

then I see Miss G coming
she's coming
I say

and Yochana stops playing
mid tune and it hangs
on the air

like a wounded bird
and Yochana goes and sits
in her chair by her desk

and I sit at the back
of class waiting
for the tune to go

and dissolve
taking in Yochana's
dark hair

and slim waist
and the remembered kiss
waiting for the tune

to stop
and the arrival
of old Miss.

She'd slept bad.

Thoughts of John
invaded her head
as she lay in bed.

She'd hugged her
Teddy close; kissed
him pretending.

Stroked Teddy's
head, his arms,
kissed him repeatedly.

Her sister snored.

Her sister talked
in her sleep.

Elaine wished
for morning.

Wished for dawn's
light and birdsong;
wanted John there
in her bed;
in her head.

Breakfast was a chore;
she didn't want to eat;
her mother said
she had to: none of
that slimming nonsense.

She ate feeling full,
feeling ill.

Lovesick her
father said jokingly.

Her mother
was not amused,
said just a slimming thing.

Elaine ate and mused dully.

Wondered if John
would kiss her again.

Did she want him to?
She didn't know;
half yes, half no.

The kiss made her
feel out of her
comfort zone;
made her feel
unknown feelings;
buzzes in her *****.

She sipped the lukewarm tea:
sugary sweet, drowned in milk.

Her sister chatted about boys
and what so and so did.

Her mother said boys
were not for breakfast talk.

Her father said Elaine
-his Frumpy hen-
didn't need to slim,
was OK as she was.

Elaine wanted John;
wanted a kiss;
wanted him to touch;
a little not over much.

Benedict
saw Yiska
by the trees

on the school
playing field
at the top

in the shade
from the sun
some boys were

kicking ball
in a game
girls sat in

groups talking
or laughing
Benedict

walked the field
where Yiska
was standing

by the trees
all alone?
he asked her

she nodded
glad you came
wasn't sure

if you'd come
she told him
your brother said

you'd be here
Benedict
informed her

it's quiet
by the trees
and maybe

we can go
in the wood
if no one

is looking
Yiska said
Benedict

looked behind
where she stood

at the small
area
called the wood

must look out
for prefects
who come here

looking out
for couples
we'll look out

she replied
they looked back
at the school

playing field
all was clear
no one looked

so they went
in the wood
at least here

we can kiss
without eyes
seeing us

Yiska said
so they kissed
she with arms

round his neck
and his arms
round her waist

lips to lips
her fingers
soft stroking

his right ear
his fingers
soft touching

her behind
then her thigh
it was their

longest kiss
on the lips
neither breathed

(or so seemed)
then parted
and stood back

and studied
each other
she took in

hazel eyes
quiff of hair
Elvis smile

he took in
her small *******
her fine curves

of body
the longest
that we've kissed

Yiska said
two prefects
he whispered

and they hid
in bushes
in the wood

silently
as two male
prefects walked

past them both
hiding there
once they'd gone

they crept out
of the wood
by the top

near the fence
that was close
Yiska said

Benedict
smiled and said
yes it was

lips to lips
recalling
his fingers

soft touching
her behind
and her thigh

releasing
a warming
and deep sigh.

Hannah lies
her collection of knives
on her bed
most given

by her father
-the largest
an SS knife
he took off a dead

SS man-
her mother
passing by
her open door

says
whit hae ye
those kni'es
oan yer scratcher fur?

I'm showing Benedict
my collection
Hannah replies
O heem

th' sassenach loon
Mrs Scott says
he's nice
Hannah says

and he likes knives
and guns
and he's interested
in seeing them

sae ye say
her mother says
and walks away
to the kitchen

Hannah sits
on her bed
and waits for Benedict
to arrive

she likes
the SS knife best
it has a kind
of haunting feel

about it
the door knocker bangs
gie th' duir
Hannah

it's th' loon
so Hannah goes
to the door
and Benedict

stands there
come in and see
Hannah says
so Benedict follows her

into her bedroom
here's my collection
she says
showing him

the knives spread
on her bed
he picks up a knife
or two and weighs

them in the palm
of his hand
and feels along
the blade

he picks out    
the SS knife
and says
deadly thing this

have you one?
she asks
no I have a flick knife  
my uncle gave me

he puts the SS knife
down on the bed
fine collection
he says

and they both sit
on the bed
near the knives
at the one end

Mrs Scott walks by
and stops and says
waur ye sittin'
oan th' scratcher?

just sitting and looking
at the knives
Hannah says
nae oan th' scratcher

her mother replies
Benedict looks puzzled
and Hannah says
she doesn't want us

sitting on the bed
Benedict nods his head
and says
o right

and looks at Mrs Scott
who stares at him
sternly and walks off
something I said?

he asks
no
Hannah says
she doesn't trust us

sitting on the bed
why is that?
he says
God knows

Hannah replies
hearing her mother
cursing in the kitchen
like a buzz of flies.

Yehudit sits
on the fence
by the field
and I sit

next to her
and it's sunny
and she says
what did you feel

after our first kiss?
wet lips
I say
and she nudges me

and says
no seriously
what did you feel?
I watch a rabbit

race across the field
in front of us
a butterfly flutters by
over the tall grass

I guess I felt excited
and I did smell
the scent you borrowed
from your mother

it had a kind
of appley smell
but didn't it make
you feel more alive?

she asks me
I look at her
the brown hair
the eyes bright

as new stars
yes I did I guess
I know my heart
was pumping

away some
and I sensed my lips
and yours almost
fuse into one flesh

and as I inhaled you
I wanted
to kiss you forever
I say

she smiles
and that smile
is the best smile
that ever smiled

and she kisses me
on the cheek
and I kiss her lips
and God

I think
is this
what love does?
and we sit there

kissing
and the rabbit's gone
the butterfly
has fluttered elsewhere

and it's just us kissing
on that warm
sunny day
just us there.

Lizbeth dressed
in her favourite
short dress

knowing her mother
would disapprove
and would lead

to her mother's
usual moans about
looking like a ****

like one of those dancers
on that TV pop music
programme

and what would
the neighbours think?
Lizbeth stared at herself

in the full length mirror
looking at red hair
her freckled skin

which she loathed
and how the dress
was getting tight

about her
how it showed her
shapely figure

which she did like
and her mother didn't
and thought of Benedict

at home in
his village cottage
with his parents

and siblings
and she hoping
to cycle out

to see him
and maybe
if she was lucky

get him
to get down to it
-she had tried

many times before
but with no success
- even in the small church

where no one
ever visited
he wouldn’t get down

to having ***
saying it wasn't
the place

and then another time
in his bedroom
where he took her

to show her
his animals bones
and bird eggs

and fossils
in broken pieces
of chalk

and it was there
behind them
his double bed

already for them
but no
she was till a ******

and even here
in her own bedroom
she brought him once

and still he wouldn't
have it
even though she'd

almost stripped off
her clothes for him
O how boring

he could be
and she gagging for it
so much so

that she was tempted
to go it alone-
as seen in

the *** book
a girl at school
had lent her-

but no
she wanted Benedict
no other boy

just him
and down stairs
she heard her mother

singing along
to the radio
some classical

music stuff
her mother's voice
croaking above

the music
like an unhappy frog
she lifted

the short dress
by the hem
to see how short

it could get
before her mother
would take it away

from her
and give it
to another

she raised it so
she could just
about see her

white underwear
and smiled
and said

to herself
there
yes there.

And there
by the water tower
Jane stood
and I was thinking

of how I'd helped
my  father saw the logs
for the fire and stove
and the sun was beginning

to open up
and bring more warmth
and she was standing there
and I felt a glow

of happiness fill me
and she waved
as I approached
and I waved back

and as we got near
I said she looked
a sight for poor eyes
and she smiled

not knowing
what I meant I think
but anyway
she said that her father

had asked her to help
do the flowers
in the church
as there was to be

a funeral that afternoon
so she had helped
and I asked
who had died

and she said
an old parishioner who
had been a regular
churchgoer

and we walked on
along Bug's Lane
between the hedgerows
and bird were singing

and flying overhead
or from hedge to hedge
or over fields
and she asked me

how I was and I said
better for seeing you
and she laughed
and said so was she

and I was tempted
to hold her hand
but didn't want
to be seen

as presumptuous
and so I didnt
but I did smell
the scent of flowers

on her
and it drew me
to her even more
and I said what's

the scent you're wearing
it smells nice
and she said it
was she mother's

that her father
had bought her
and her mother said
she could wear some

and so she did
and we walked on
towards the small church
a good walk away

that warm
flower smelling  
sun pouring down
summery day.

We sat on the grass in front of Banks House near the bomb shelters now unused but still there like monuments of a tragic past and the coal wharf across the way where coal lorries and horse drawn wagons waited to be loaded with coal and coke and the railway bridge over Rockingham Street where steam trains passed over noisily and behind us the windows of the flats of Banks House where nosey neighbours spied on the passing world and Fay said her father and mother had rowed that morning rowed loud enough to have the woman below in the flats to knock on her ceiling as if to say they were making too much noise with their voices and her father had stamped down on the floor as if to say mind your business and I asked her what they were arguing about and she said it was about her mothers attitude about church going and her faith being not what it was and her father had said she would end up in Hell and was it fair on her daughter to have a mother who was destined for such a place and I said it was her mothers choice about her faith if she had one still or even if she didnt any more Fay wasnt sure about it after all she said faith was a gift from God and a gift that needed nurturing and looking after not to be neglected or lost or so her father had said and even the nuns at school had said similar things at R.E. a week or so before and I said if faith was a gift from God how comes that some people never seem to have got it never got the gift of faith at all or if they had got the gift it had slipped through their fingers? she wasnt sure I could see it in her eyes and I knew she had a real fear of her father of his violence and his strictness regarding her faith and her knowledge of her faith and he didnt like her going out with me because he said I wasnt Catholic and had a lack of attitude towards faith of any kind and he-her father- didnt like me and had warned her not to go out with me and said dont you go out with that Benedict boy but she had secretly and stood the chance of punishment if she was found out being out with me and  she said she was between two people she loved her mother and her father and hoped to God they would not split up as her mother said at times when they rowed that she would and take me with her if she left that serious? I said and she said it seemed like it to her and after rows like the one today it seemed more likely than before and she said her father said that she could not leave him as they were married in the eyes of God and to leave would be to break her vows before God and be in a state of sin and a sin that could mean she was destined to go to Hell I opened the Tizer bottle I had brought with me from the off license and offered her a swig and she took the bottle in her hand and took a short swig and offered it back to me and I wiped the bottle top with my hand and took a big swig and it made my eyes water as the bubbles exploded up my nose I didnt like the thought of Fay being taken off by her mother and that I might not see her any more I couldnt bear to think of you not being around here any more I said she eyed the windows of the flats behind us  and leaned close to me and kissed my cheek I hope I don't leave here she said my friends are here and my dad and you especially she said I studied her blonde hair the smooth hair brought into a ponytail and the yellow dress she wore and white socks and the black shoes- slightly scuffed- maybe we should run away she said just us but she had said it in a romantic kind of way of thinking us being just twelve years old but it seemed quite fun in a romantic kind of way and I said sure where will we go? France she said Id like to go there and see men in berets and hear that French music and drink coffee at table on streets corners I smiled sounds good I said I offered her the Tizer bottle again and she wiped the top of the bottle with her palm and drank a big mouthful then gave it back to me where would you like to go? she asked me I said America to see Dodge City and see  where cowboys used to gunfight and maybe we could live in a log cabin and have a dog and keep cattle  and she smiled and kissed me and said you and your cowboys and such I drank from the Tizer bottle and put it on the grass beside me what about Rome? she said and see the Pope and the Vatican and the paintings and see other nuns and priests I saw her look at me and I smiled and said we could go to the seaside near by and go bathing and sit on the beach and have drink and sandwiches and just lie on the sand and look up at the sun and relax thatd be good she said looking at me but of course we will have to wait until we are older she said otherwise Daddy will come looking for us and then Id really be for it once he found us I sat looking at her trying to take in what I could of her in case her mother took her away from here and me and left a big hole in my twelve year old life and maybe I thought if we wait long enough we could marry and she could be my blonde haired blue eyed wife.

Ingrid finds the crowds of people overwhelming the West End of London is busier than she thought it would be theyve just got off the bus at Trafalgar Square quite near from here the National Portrait Gallery he says as they walks through Trafalgar Square past by Nelsons Column its a 170 feet high he says looking up Ingrid looks up too I bet he can see for miles up there she says its been there since 1843 he says walking on howd you know? she asks Mr Finn told us in history the other month Benny says I never heard him say that Ingrid says following behind Benny you were probably asleep Benny says smiling no I wasnt she replies just dont like history I find it bores me they climb the steps into the National Portrait Gallery and spend an hour or so looking around at the various portraits afterwards they come out and Benny says what about a glass of milk and cake in Leicester Square? is it far? she asks no just around the corner he says so they walk around and into Leicester Square my old man brings me here sometimes Benny says usually Sundays and we have a look around then we have a drink some place and have a go on the machines in the pinball alleys  my dad doesnt take me anywhere Ingrid says taking in the bright neon lights and the crowds of people passing them by I came with Mum once when she did evening cleaning at one of the offices up here Ingrid says remembering my mum works up here too cleaning some evenings Benny says they go into a milk bar and sit down at a table a waitress comes over to them and asks them what they wanted to drink or eat Benny tells her and she walks away he looks at Ingrid sitting in the chair he noticed she winced when she sat down whats up? your old man been hitting you again? he asks her why how did you know? she says looking at him blushing slightly saw how you sat and winced he replies he was in a bad mood and said I was too noisy and now that my brother and sister have left home he finds it easier to pick on me and Mum too Ingrid says you should tell someone Benny says Ingrid shakes her head Mum says Ill be taken away and wont see her anymore and I dont want to go in a home away from her so I say nothing and you mustnt either she  says eyeing Benny anxiously whod believe me he says looking at her wishing he could save her from the beatings she gets but he knows no one would believe him the waitress beings their milks and two biscuits and goes off after putting them on the table I saw your mum had a back eye the other week and my mum said she told her she walked into a door some ****** door that must be Benny says she must walk into that door on a regular basis Ingrid begins to sip the milk through a straw the waitress had provided she says nothing but looks at the glass and the sound of other people talking and laughing Benny sips his milk also thinking of the last time hed seen Ingrids old man passed him on the stairs and her old man eyed him coldly but said nothing after he had gone downstairs Benny gave him the ******* gesture Ingrid is glad to be out of the flat and the Square but shes anxious about his return that night after work and what he will ask her and she finds it hard to lie to him and if she says shes been to art gallery and the West End hell whack her for going and for going with Benny and Mumll say nothing then hell thump her for letting me go off and Ill feel guilty for getting Mum into trouble you let a nine year old girl out into the West End with that Benny kid? thump thump Ingrid can see it all now as she sips her milk Benny sips his milk eyeing Ingrid opposite looking anxious her mind on something else her eyes through her glasses enlarged what are you thinking about? he asks she looks at him nothing she replies its impossible for the human brain not to  think about something unless its died of course and I assume your brain hasnt died he says smiling Daddy says Im brain-dead sometimes she says but I wasnt thinking of anything in particular she lies looking at Bennys hair and the quiff and his hazel eyes and that way he has of studying her you dont lie too good he says lying about what? she says trying not to look too guilty Im not lying what were you really thinking about then? he asks she looks away from him and sips more of the milk I bet youre worrying about your old man finding out about us going up West and you know you cant lie to save your life Benny says I wish I could lie but I just blush or my eyes give me away Daddy always looks at my eyes he says they give me away before my mouth does then Im for it and he knows it and Mum gets it also then whether she knows about me or not its a matter of creative truth telling Benny says she looks at him and she frowns whats that? she says well keep in mind something who have said or done and put it in place of something you have done or said which you know you shouldnt have done he says but we have been here she says how can I put anything in its place? we will Benny says where? she asks well go to the church on the way home and you can go in there on your own and pray or something look at the coloured glass windows and flowers and then tell your old man that if he asks where youve been and done they finish their drinks and biscuits and go back to Trafalgar Square and get a bus back to the Elephant and Castle and Benny and Ingrid go to the church at the top of Meadow Row right now you go in on your own and sit and pray and have good look at the things inside like the coloured glass windows and the altar and then if your old man asks you can tell him the truth Benny says Ingrid goes in the church and Benny waits outside and as he does so he spots Ingrids old man go by on the other side of Meadow Row but he doesnt see Benny he just walks down the Row his features grim and Benny thinks of tiny demons following him.

I walk across
to Hannah's flat
in Arrol House
and knock at the door

Mrs Scott opens
the door and stands there
she's a short thin woman
with a face of granite
with a slit
where her mouth is

whit is it?
she says
her Scottish accent
rough as stone

is Hannah home?
I ask

I dunnae kinn
she replies
HANNAH
she bellows
over her shoulder
Benedcit is haur fur ye
she adds
scowling at me

jist coming
Hannah replies
from back in the flat

yoo'll hae tae bide
Mrs Scott says

and walks back inside
leaving me
on the red tiled step

I look into the interior
of the flat
and smell breakfast
having been cooked

I look back
into the Square
kids are playing
near by
on the pram sheds
and over by the wall
girls are doing handstands
their feet
against the wall
dresses falling
over their heads
showing underwear

sorry about Mum
she has a mouth on her
Hannah says
where we going?
she asks

thought we'd go
to the South Bank
see the Thames and boats
and have ice cream
I say

do I need money?
she asks

just about 2/-
I say
for bus fares
and ice cream

I'll ask Mum
for a handout
but wait for the answer

Mum have you 2/-
I can have?
Hannah asks

fa dae ye hink
Ah am Rockerfeller?
nae Ah huvnae
her mother replies

no problem
I say to Hannah
I'll have enough
for us both

are you sure?

yes don't aggravate
your mother more
than you have to

so Hannah gets her coat
and we walk off
through the Square

she's like that sometimes
Hannah says
she's as tight
as a wing nut

we walk down the *****
and up Meadow Row

I ask her how her father is

she says
he's Ok but in
the doghouse more often
as not with Mum
but he's a softy
to Mum's hardness
but Mum says
he's soft in the heed
but he's lovely really
Hannah says

-I know her old man
he's English and a bit
simple after helping
to empty out Belsen camp
in 1945 where some
he told me were
more dead as alive-

we wait at the bus stop
she with her dark hair
pony tailed
with a tartan skirt
and white blouse
and me in blue jeans
and white shirt
and quiff of brown hair
and hazel eyes

she with a budding beauty
with her mother's
touch of tongue
who if roused
could give words
full lung.

Fay was waiting for me
at the top of Meadow Row

I was on my way home
from school
-I'd walked home
as I’d spent my fare money
on doughnuts that morning-

she looked agitated
her blonde hair
was in two ponytails
her eyes looked red
as if she'd been crying

thought I’d missed your bus
she said

no I walked
I said
what's up?

she took my hand
and we walked down
Meadow Row
walking past
the bomb sites
and the ruins
of other houses  

I’ve lost my rosary
she said
I can't find it

what's a rosary?
I asked

a crucifix with beads
I showed you
the other week

O that bead thing
so what's the problem?
can't you buy another?

it was my grandmother's
old one

well buy her another one
I said

I can't she died
last year

well she won't
need it then
will she
I said

she stopped
but Daddy will want
to know why I lost it
and then he'll go off
the deep end  
and I know
he'll punish me
and it wasn't my fault

she began to cry
and I didn't know
what to say or do

where do you keep it?
I asked

in my coat pocket
so it's handy
if I want to use it

and it's not there now?

she shook her head
and put her hand
in the pocket
of her coat

is that the coat
you always wear?
she nodded

what about Sundays?

she looked at me

today's Monday
maybe you left it
in your coat you
wear on Sundays
I said

she looked at me
with reddened eyes
of course I forgot
it must be in
my Sunday coat
from yesterday

let's go find out
I said

but what if Daddy's there?

so what?
I said

he doesn't like me
being with you
because you're not
a Catholic

I’ll wait outside
on the balcony
if he is
I said

so we walked up
Meadow row
and crossed over
Rockingham Street
and up the *****
and into the Square
and along to the flats
and up the concrete staircase
to her parent's flat
which was above
where I lived

she knocked and her mother
let her in
and I stood on the balcony
looking into the Square

after 5 minutes or so
she opened the door
smiling and said

it was in my Sunday coat
all the time
and she kissed my cheek

I knew then
I’d not wash
that area of my face
the whole week.

Anne stands
on crutches
in the queue

to be weighed
by a nun
in the home

for sick kids
Skinny Kid
she whispers

to the boy
just in front
if I win

the choc bar
I'll share it
just with you

if you win
who will you
share it with?

you of course
he replies
in soft voice

other kids
up the front
fail to put

on more weight
so don't win
the choc bar

it's you now
Benedict
a nun says

Skinny Kid
stands steady
on the scales

you've put on
5 ounces
she tells him

he gets off
of the scales
and Anne

crutches up
on one leg
her stump swings

underneath
her red dress
steady now

the nun says
Anne stands
as steady

as she can
you've put on
7 ounces

the nun says
so you win
the choc bar

Anne smiles
and crutches
herself off

of the scales
the nun puts
the choc bar

in Anne's
dress pocket
let's go Kid

Anne says
and they go
out the back

on the lawn
she crutching
to the far

white table
and white chairs
with the Kid

beside her
making sure
she's ok

he pulls out
a white chair
and she sits

the Kid sits
beside her
and they share

the choc bar
between them
12 ounces

gained in weight
between them.

Ingrid sports a black eye;
she looks like a panda.

She said she walked
into a door;
she doesn't lie
convincingly.

I know her old man;
I passed him
on the stairs of the flats;
his beady eyes
drinking me in,
giving me the cold glare,
the cold shoulder.

We walk through the Square,
off to the shops.

What happened to your eye?
I ask again,
studying the black
and slightly green;
walking beside her,
passing the milkman
and his horse drawn cart,
the horse wearing
a nosebag of food,
ignoring us.

I walked into
the bedroom door,
she says,
knowing I don't
believe her,
looking sheepish,
knowing
I guess the truth.

What have you got
to get at the shops?
I ask.

She shows me a list
on a scrap of paper,
pencil scribbled,
in her small right hand
a handful of coins.

I passed your old man
on the stairs yesterday,
I tell her,
gave him my
Wyatt Earp stare,  
I say, he didn't care.

I note her hair
is unbrushed,
her green patterned dress
unwashed.

We cross Rockingham Street
into Harper Road.

I talked too much,
Dad said,
she confesses,
he said I yak and yak.

We pass the paper shop
and go on
to the grocer shop.

I say,
if I had your old man
in the sights
of my six-shooter gun
I'd fire a cap
up his ***;
she sniggers;
people stare at us
as we pass.

Guess where I slept
last night?
Lydia asks me

no idea
I say

the cot bed again
as my sister
and her Spiv boyfriend
wanted the bed
and I was turfed out
and Gloria

-her big sister-

said Mum said
she could as the boyfriend
has been kicked out
of his digs
and he needs a bed
for a few nights

we cross over
the New Kent Road
by the Zebra Crossing
the sky is overcast
dark clouds

and later while
I was supposed
to be asleep  
Gloria says
are you asleep Lydia?

I pretended
to be asleep
and my eyes closed
facing the wall
my backside
sticking out
as its too small for me

she's asleep
Gloria told her boyfriend

good
he says

and I heard funny noises

what funny noises?
I ask

odd sounds
like the Spiv
is trying suffocate her

I know she's a pain
in the ****
but he doesn't have
to try and suffocate her

but I said nothing
just pretended
to be sleeping
then it gets even nosier
and Gloria says to him
more more
and I thought
more what?

but I never asked
I just guessed
he was giving her
some sweets or something

we stop in front
of the ABC cinema
and look at
the small photos
outside showing
what film is on

isn't that Marilyn Monroe?
she asks
in the photos

yes it is
I say

so what do you think
about sharing sweets
at bedtime?
she asks me
do all people do that
who sleep in the same bed
share sweets?

I guess so
I say
but my brother
and I don't
we just sleep
after nights are out

but she says
I wish I knew what
the fight was all about.

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.

You gaze down at your daughter, Camille, and lay your hand upon her body. She is asleep, resting after a long day, exhausted after the day with Boris at the Zoo, then the café in the park. You wish her father had been that affectionate, had taken the time to be with her, been interested enough to want to be with her and you, but he wasn’t, just other women, other things to occupy his life and mind. You stroke her rib cage; how thin she seems; not a bit like her father, not one ounce of him in her that seems apparent. You gaze at her hair, at the features that you can see, she takes after you, it’s in her face and eyes. Even her temperament is yours, you feel, and are glad, rather than her father’s moroseness, and cruelty. If you had taken you mother’s advice you would never have married Paterson, never have let his hands or lips near you, let alone marry the ****. He’ll be no good, for you, Mavis, she had warned on your wedding eve. You never listened; never took note; you knew best you thought. Marry in haste, relent in leisure, you father had said, in that voice that made you want to hit him, but you never did, although he had hit you many a time as a child, even for the most trivial of things. Dead now, preaching to some other crowd now, wherever he is. You smile at Camille’s sleeping face. Picture of innocence. Like you as a child, you guess. But there had been no Boris in your mother’s life; just your father and his preaching and teaching and moaning and sitting at the table with his long hangdog features and the cane by his hand ready for punishments. You remember creeping into your parents one night as a child and hearing the most awful noises in the dark; like your mother were being strangled or beat up upon, you raced from the room, hid under your blankets in case you father should come and get you. Camille came into you room last month as you and Boris were making love, her voice knifed you, so that you and Boris fell apart like some circus act gone wrong. She had wanted a glass of water, her small voice echoing through the dark, Boris and you panting, going all frigid as if death had claimed. Boris lay smiling in the dark, as you went, took Camille by her hand, fetched her water, lay her back to bed and to sleep. Now she sleeps again. Picture of innocence. Angel of your life. Your precious. Your daughter.

She thinks of him
as she lies in bed,
thinks of his last visit,
that time he brought her

cigarettes and chocs
and the tubby nurse said
it's not good for you all
these things , and Nima

had said is *** good for me?
the tubby nurse said
everything in its place,
and Nima had said show

me the place. She ought to
be up and dressed but
she can't be ****** or so
it seems in her mind, so it

seems if she can't have
her fix and can't go out
until the quacks say so.
Benedict has said he will

come like he came that
day for the first time and
she was so unaware that
he'd get there, but he did,

turned up and the nurse said,
you've got a visitor, she
thought her parents had
decided to come after all,

but it was Benedict standing
in the doorway holding
cigarettes and a wide smile.
She looks at a nurse passing by,

thinks of being up and out,
seeing Benedict in London,
but no, the quacks say not
until we've fixed the fix craving

as if...and that time he and
she had had a quickie in that
side room and smiles and lies
with eyes closed dreaming of

that time, supping on it in colour
and all like a small picture show,
and she watches it move on and go.

I remember Herr Ackerman being a rather stern man with neatly trimmed whiskers, dark eyes that seemed like olives stuck in large bowls. His wife was an unhappy woman who appeared always in his shadow, never said anything she didn’t think he would agree with. They were the parents of my school friend, Greta Ackerman, with whom I stayed that summer in their large house in the countryside. Rosa, Herr Ackerman said to me, where are your parents living? When I told him, he pulled a face, sniffed the air as if he could smell them. I am not sure that you may come and stay again after this summer, Rosa; he said stiffly, times are changing; there are people about now who take a dim view of being too associated with Jews. I nodded and was glad at least that summer I could stay with Greta and be with her in that fine house. She was very sad when I told her what her father had said. We must make the most of our time together, she said, and forget about next summer. I had only arrived that day, so she took me to the upper landing of the house where along a corridor she showed me the bedroom where I was to sleep. It was cosy, far better than my own at home which I shared with my sister Rachel. Where do you sleep? I asked. Come and see, Greta said, and taking me by the hand pulled me along the corridor to a door at the end. Here, she said excitedly, I sleep here. Come in, close the door, she whispered as if someone might hear. I entered; she pushed the door shut behind us. What do you think? She said. It’s beautiful, I said. It was the best room I had seen as far as bedrooms go. She took me by the hand, ran to the window, which looked out on the fields beyond and the hills in the distance. I wanted us to share a room like we do at school, but father said, no, Greta said, but you must visit me at night, she added softly. I said I would and she leaned forward and kissed me. It was not the first time she had kissed me; we had kissed at school, but it had been only on the odd moment when we could ****** time to be alone. Here we could be alone when we liked most of the time. Greta knew this and this made her happy. Doesn’t your father like Jews? I asked as we parted from the kiss. He has his worries with his friends and associates who have their own prejudices, he thinks it might harm the friendship if he is seen to take a different view on Jews from them, Greta said, holding me close, not wanting to let me go. We spent time going around the house and grounds, talking and laughing, running across the fields, into the small woods nearby. At mealtimes Herr Ackerman would sit stern, talk about the news, discuss things with his wife, and occasionally look at me as if there was something he wanted to say, but didn’t quite know how to say it. That night as I lay in the bed in the bedroom, looking out at the night sky thinking of home, my parents and my sister, there was a tap at the door. The handle turned, Greta stood in the gap of light from the passage behind her. Are you asleep? she asked. No, I replied. She came in, closed the door behind her, tiptoed across the room to the bed, and climbed in beside me. Her feet were cold and her hands, which touched my warm body, were cold, too. I waited for you, she whispered. I forgot the way, I replied softly. She laughed and kissed my cheek. Not to worry, she said, I am here with you. Her cold feet touched mine, her arms sought out my warm body, she sighed. What’s the matter? I asked. I am so happy to be here with you, yet I know that tomorrow Father says you must return home. I was shocked.Why? I asked. He said it is best, Greta muttered. How best? I said. He told Mother that he has no choice. If his friends found out you are staying here, it could be awkward for him, Greta said. I felt tears on her cheeks as she held me close to her. How shall I get home? I said. Father will arrange transport for you, Greta said. I felt frightened; I sensed danger. I don’t want you to go, Greta said, I want you always to be here with me. I kissed her. Father said that I am to go to a different school next term, Greta muttered. After tomorrow, I may not see you again. I felt as if someone had stabbed me, someone had opened up my brain and exposed it to a bright light that blocked out all thoughts and feelings other than that Greta and I were to be parted. We were silent. We lay in each other’s arms, feelings each other’s arms, bodies and sensing the moments passing by, the clock on the small bedside table was ticking away the minutes we had left together. Talking seemed senseless, we spoke with our bodies, our hands, and our lips, we explored each other in such depth that I remember each part of her body even all these years later. That was my first night of love, our night of love. Two fourteen-year-old girls; one German, one Jew. A year later, my parents fled Germany with my sister and me; went to America, and stayed with relatives of my father until he found employment and a place for us to live.
Herr Ackerman and his wife prospered for a while, but they were killed in an air raid in Dresden. Greta committed suicide the week before she was to begin her new school. I shall always remember Greta; remember the love we shared and the love we lost.

Shoshana sees him,
watches him, he walks
through the playground
towards the cloakrooms,

his head turned away
from her, his profile,
snaps it with her eyes
like a camera, Naaman,

she thinks his name is,
the stride of him, so
goose-bumpily he makes
her, somersault of her

innards, her brain alive
like a wire shot through.
He stops, holds out a hand,
palm upwards, eyes the

sky, then her, standing by
the fence, Monkey's Wedding,
he says, smiling, then down
it comes rain and the sunshine

almost hand in hand like a
weird bride and groom, then
downwards falling, go run,
she hears him loudly calling.

Having left Benedict
having to to go back
to lessons after
lunchtime recess

Yiska sensed her body
kind of rebel
sitting at the desk
as the teacher Miss N

began outlining
the brainwashing
for the period
something about

some Magna Carta
in 1215
it seemed her body
wanted something else

and as she sat
gazing at the black board
it seemed to leak
as if

she was
melting down
as if part of her
was seeping away

and even as she
picked up her
fountain pen
to begin to scribe

what Miss N
had started to write
on the board
her -what her mother

termed was her
down below-
seemed to feel
as if a flood

was about to begin
a leakage
as if some dam
had revealed

a weakness
in the structure
a thin line of parting
Miss N spoke

of Runnymede
as she scribed
on the board
with chalk

boring talk
and Yiska wanted
Benedict to be there
wanted his kiss again

his lips on hers
warm on warm
wet to wet
his hand along

her spine
his fingers feeling
her bra strap
and she feeling him

against her
yes it felt
like leakage
and even as she

dragged her mind
into Runnymede
and the Magna Carta
in 1215

and all
such history
she had the sensation
of the leakage mystery.

Tessa stirred, lifted her head from the pink pillow, saw bright daylight coming through the gap in the yellow curtains. What day is it? Saturday. Good. No rush. Can lay here for a while. She laid her head down again. She felt beside her with her hand. No one there. Good. Sometimes she invited a man back if he seemed ok and she liked him enough. Obviously, last night she’d not met anyone worth the coming back with. Just as well. She wasn’t in the mood for waiting on them over a breakfast table; talking about the previous night, what it had been like for him or sometimes for her if she had brought back a girl. No one. Just empty space. Although Teddy was there. His one ear was smooth; his fur was thin and sparse. She brought him to her lips, kissed his small head. Hello, Teddy. His glass eye seemed to gaze back at her; the button eye was darker, unseeing. Poor Teddy. Battered and worn. We’ve been together now for…how long? Twenty years? She laid him beside her; kissed his nose. He lay there looking at the white ceiling. Silence. Not a great conversationalist was Teddy. He’d not said a word in all the years they’d been together. Although as a child, she thought he had, would talk with him, play games with him, told him all her secrets and worries. Moreover, of course, he had witnessed things, seen her play with her dolls, with men, the occasional girl, and seen her with all kinds. She brooded for a moment; let the idea of what he may have seen swim around her mind. She had become so used to him being there in her bedroom that she’d given no thought to what he may have seen over the years. Good God. He’d seen all that, never said a word, or moaned or complained or judged her. Too many did that; judged her. But never Teddy. She turned her head, kissed his furry cheek. He didn’t always lie on her bed, when she had company she put him in the armchair in the corner, or on the dressing table by the window. Once one of the men she’d brought back has tossed Teddy across the room, she had become cross, swore at the man, picked up Teddy, kissed his brow, cuddled him against her cheek, told the man to go, leave her because if he could do that to her Teddy he might do it to her. The man shook his head, left thinking her slightly touched, ******* up one of his eyes as if he thought she had lost the plot. Maybe she had, she didn’t care. Teddy had seen her as a little girl, seen her cousin creep into her room, seen him climbed into her bed and do things to her, seen her squirm, seen his hand over her mouth, heard his threats. She hadn’t thought about that; hadn’t given it any thought until now. Remember that, Teddy? He threatened me with all kinds of things if I told anyone what he did. What a *******; what a creep. He’s married now, Teddy; got kids of his own. Poor things. Makes you think. She sat up in bed, stared at the daylight through the gap in the curtains. She got out of bed, sat on the end looking at the wall. Never said a word. Never told anyone, except Teddy; she’d told him. Everything. How it felt; how she felt; how ***** it had made her feel. Teddy listened; never judged. Always there with that look about him, that wise gaze. She sighed. If she saw her cousin now, she said nothing, just stared at him and he stared at her, a knowing look on his fat face. She looked back at Teddy in bed, saw his gaze on her, saw his uncritical gaze. She loved that about him. Loved that look. Breakfast, Teddy? Like I used to make you? She mused on her efforts to get him to eat his breakfast as a child, but he never did. You were awful at eating your breakfast. Mother told me not to give you any, but I always did; always gave you some of mine. It made Father cross, made his face become all stern and cross looking, and he threatened once to throw you out when we moved from that old house to the new one. But I hid you so he couldn’t. You saw him when he spanked me; heard my cries. Mother never came or said anything, but you were always there; I am sure I heard you say you loved me, would always be there for me. She nodded her head. Sighed. The strong silent type was Teddy. Always there. With his one glass eye, his balding fur, his one ear. Haven’t seen them for years now, the parents. They’re in Oxford; I’m here in New York. An ocean between us. Miles and miles. We’re here, Teddy, you and me. Just the two of us. Just us, this apartment, the paintings on the walls, the jazz on the CD player, our secrets, all our own secrets. Just us. Just you and me. Eh, Teddy? Eh? Silence. Teddy, the strong silent type and me the mouthy *****. What a couple. What a pair. Me here, you there. She laughed, looked at Teddy’s moon shaped smile, the smile was always there, a welcome smile, a smile to warm her, to tell her she was good, she was loved. Yes, loved; wanted for whom she was inside, not for what she said or did or didn’t do. Just you and me, Teddy. Just you and me.

Yehudit didn't
tell her mother
about the kiss.

She'd not understand;
she'd moan some  
about Yehudit being
just fourteen
and who  
kissed you
and whom
did you kiss?
kind of questions.

Best nothing said.

She entered home
after the Christmas
carols singing trip
and said yes,
it went well,
and we raised money
for the church and poor.

Her mother gazed
and said getting late best
be off to bed with you.

So she did.

Good night all, call.

Climbed the stairs to bed.

Humming a carol
or so,
treading the stairs,
but Benedict and the kiss
stuck inside her head.

I saw Jane
by the water tower
in Bugs Lane
I had come from home

after helping my father
saw logs in the shed
she looked pretty
in the sunlight

her dark hair
seemed aglow
and as I approached
she smiled

and it pinched me
inside in a way
I couldn't fathom
she had a book

in her hand
and swung it
back and forth
like a priest swung

the thurible at church
what have got there?
I asked
as I was by her side

it's a book
on British butterflies
she said
showing me

the book cover
which had various
butterfly pictures
on the front and back

thought we may go look
for some of them
she said
it's Daddy's

but he said
I could borrow it
ok
I said

that'll be good
-but being with her
was the real joy
just breathing in

her presence
her fresh apple smell
was the real goodness-
so we walked up

the pathway up
to the Downs
trees on either side
keeping out

the hot blaze
of the sun
for a while
except where it

broke through
overhead branches
and there were birds singing
and flights of birds

crossing over
and above us
are you all right?
she asked

-Lizbeth was unmentionable
between us now
we just never
spoke of her-

sure I'm fine
I said
collecting chalk fossils
you know

the ones inside
rock chalk
found two shells
inside one last week

that's good
you'll have to show me
she said
they're in my show tank

I said
along with animal bones
and skeletons of birds
in my room

have to ask
your mother
if I can see them
with you

she said
as we walked past
the big hollow tree
-yet when Lizbeth

came to my room
a while back
she never thought
to ask my mother

if she could go
to my room-
after a while
we broke out

into the open
and the sunshine
warmed us
and it was like

being born again
up there on the Downs
the grass
and the flowers

and shrubbery
and I liked being there
beside her
in fact it was

a love thing
just being there
let alone being there
looking out

for butterflies
she was
the butterfly beauty
in my eyes.

When he wanted a fix
Or money for a fix
It was to your handbag
He went first; he'd root through

It like a pig searching
For wild truffles, and he
Wasn't gentle in his
Search either, grabbing you

Tightly, trying to pin
You down, especially
If you tried to hide your
Bag behind your back, then

He got really rough, and
All your love/hate for him
Surfaced like some waking
Cat and you'd pounce at him

And the struggle'd begin
And the whole block knew all
About it and the air
Was blue with language of

A kind your mother would
Never use even on
A bad day, and maybe
Then he'd get the handbag

Open and he'd root through,
His eyes large as an ox
And his tongue hanging out
The side of his mouth like

Some stupid dog and you
Knew him then as a dim
Specimen of all men,
He was a degree course

In men logy and
You had the knowledge in
Each pore and tissue of
Your body and mind and

You'd stand still and watch him
Shaking your head, wishing
To Hell, he'd take his last
Drugged up fix and be dead.

The bikes were parked outside the small church by a hedge where cows were mooing on the other side black and white cows mooing loudly it was warm the sun was almost over head the church silent other than the mooing cows and the occasional birdsong from hedgerows surrounding the church and churchyard where there were gravestones some quite old some more recent with flowers in vases or pots inside the church sat Lizbeth her red hair let loose over her shoulders dressed in her favourite black dress which was too short-her mother said although Lizbeth liked it so- and white ankle socks and black shoes slightly duffed she sat gazing at the altar end where coloured glass windows let in narrow shards of sunlight that settled on the small altar and the flagstones on the floor next to her sat the boy Benedict who looked at the church roof thinking of the girl wondering if it had been wise to come here again with her after the last time when she had proposed they have *** on one of the pews which they didnt of course as he had rejected such a thing it being a church and all but he had come after she said she wouldnt suggest such a thing again not in the church anyway the roof looked old he thought but it didnt seem to leak and that was good being such a small church and it seemed people seldom came except on the odd Sundays when a parson could be found he sensed her beside him her elbow touched his her thigh pressed against his he knew she pressed it so because he felt her move closer to him in the pew knees touched also it felt as if she was pressing more he couldnt decide for sure but it seemed so if she was going to try it on again he would get up and leave but she seemed content just to sit there and gaze at the altar end at the sunlight coming through the coloured glass windows at the brass crucifix on the altar table where a Christ was welded to the brass cross he sniffed the air surreptitiously her perfume was there strong powerful-she must have bathed in it to get it so strong- the churchy smell dead flowers old stone he closed his eyes briefly wanting to strengthen his senses other than sight other than the visual the sounds hearing sounds birdsong from outside she shifting beside him on the seat of the pew her foot tapping gently on the wooden praying form her hands tapping on the top of the pew smelt her more strongly he decided it was too strong too seductive and that was unsettled him that smell that deliberate soaking herself in such perfume she watched the sunlight shards of it with dust and such floating in the light like small planets in a vast universe of light she knew he was unsettled beside her he seemed rather stiff uneasy as if he feared she was about to pounce upon him and have her wicked way with him undressed him and then both naked **** for all they were worth but she knew she wouldnt get as far as undoing his top button of the shirt he was wearing no more likely than unbutton his jeans and look for his ***** and pull it out with her fingers like a bird with a worm in its beak she sat and stared at the sunlight feeling him beside her his thigh next to hers warm feeling him there stirring her but she had to control the urge fight back the temptation to grab him and kiss him and no no she had to do as she promised and settle for just being there beside him she hoped he could smell the perfume she wore-her mothers half a bottle it seemed splashed over her naked body that morning in the bathroom-you stink to high heaven her mother had said that morning at breakfast and its my perfume youve soaked in no need for so much you smell like a brothel her mother said but whether that was a good thing or not Lizbeth didnt know not knowing what a brothel smelt like anyway or caring for that matter who are you seeing? Her mother asked a boy Lizbeth replied what boy? Lizbeth said just a boy and said no more much to her mothers dissatisfaction and annoyance making her mother more depressed and anxious than normal Benedict looked sideways at her taking in her hair red and loose her freckled skin her bright eyes she looked around at him leaving the altar and crucifix sight alone quiet here she said he nodded I wonder how many people come here on a Sunday she said wanting to hear his voice she didnt care a fig how many dull people came to the church but his voice just the sound of it not many I guess he said more people buried outside than in here she said smiling he liked her smile but it also unsettled him made him feel things he didnt want to feel guess so he said she eyed him he seemed unsure of her maybe he felt unsure of her and himself of what his body might act if it acted at all shed put the short black dress it showed more leg revealed her thighs and if she parted her thighs just so it gave the impression of darker places just about concealed nothing would come of today visit she knew no *** would result no big kissing session much as she wanted it shed be lucky if anything came of it but she needed to keep in touch with him have him not far from her despite the ****** Queen Jane warning her off in that gentle manner at school she sighed he looked at her his hands tucked in his lap her hands wanted to do something wanted to touch him to feel him and deep down some part of her wanted him all wanted him inside her she dreamed of such in her nightly sleep some nights it seemed so real that she leaked O God she thought-God just a word to her not a concept or a being as such- Ive written an essay on this church he said for R.E at school and got good marks for it he added she couldnt give a **** about that but she listened and smiled and said thats good and it must have been interesting she said sure she wouldnt want to read it even if she could he smiled his eyes hazel she thought settled  on her moved over her he settled back in the pew felt the wooden rail against his spine the seat was hard couldnt sit too long here he thought let alone have *** like she wanted that time before he couldnt imagine it in any way seemed too out on a limb and why did she want *** so much what was it about *** that caught her and drove her he wondered keeping his hands away from touching her in case she got the wrong impression she wanted to touch him place a hand on his squeeze his hand put his hand under her dress and let him feel her but no she darent yet not today she turned and faced the altar end again and knew she'd have to dream a dream of this day but have things differently him having her away away and away.

Go and get
some bread rolls
over the corner shop
Mum said

so I took the offered coins
and went out
the front door
and down the stairs
of the flats

on the second level
I saw Ingrid
sitting on the top step

what are you doing here?

Dad threw me out
said I was too noisy
and said I had to go out
until he'd had
his breakfast

she looked cold
and hungry

when can you go back?

when he says so
I expect

I sat beside her
on the concrete step

had breakfast yet?

no not yet

come with me
I've got to get
some bread rolls
over the shop
then you can have
a bite to eat with me
Mum won't mind
I said

she looked at me
don't think I ought to
in case Dad says
to go back in
Ingrid said

****** him
I said
come with me
if you're not there
he''ll go to work
worrying won't he

shouldn't think so
he'll just paste me
when he gets home
this evening

I'll bring you a roll then
and you can eat it here
I said

she looked at
the steps below unhappily

guess I could come
Dad'll not be out
yet awhile
she said

good come on then
I said

and she got up
and we went down
the stairs
and through the Square
and along

how comes he thinks
you're too noisy?

she looked
at the grey morning sky

don't know why
I guess I talk too much
although I don't mean to
it's just that words
come out
and I can't stop them
as if they've a mind
of their own

Mum don't mind
she'll sit and listen
but Dad ain't got
the patience
or he's in a mood
or someone outside
has upset him
and since my brother
and sister have left
he's no one else
to moan at
apart from mum
and he gives her
what for too
if he's a mind to

we walked down
the *****
and catch a mild
orange sun coming
over the houses
up Meadow Row
and I smiled
and thought
she can talk on so.

Anne crutches herself onto the green lawn of the nursing home and sits at one of the metal white painted tables and in one of the white metal chairs and drops her crutches beside her Benedict whom she called Skinny Kid follows her and sits at the same table looking at her his hazel eyes focusing on her on her black straight hair and dark eyes other children are playing on the swings and slide or sitting at other tables a distance away don't want none of those other sick kids here Kid Anne says they're sneaks and tell tales and moaning Minnies and such but you Kid you're all right you’re possibly the only one here I can tolerate and O those pesky nuns ****** penguins walking about poking their noses into things saying have you had a motion today? have you passed water? yes I said to Sister Agnes I did a dance on one leg as a motion and I passed the running water tap on my way to breakfast what did she say​?Benedict asks she said manners Anne we must have manners and asked me again and I said both and plenty of them and she went off in a huff her black habit gown flapping behind her like some ****** bat one of the kids comes to the table and says can I sit here? of course you can sit you've an **** on you but no you may not Anne says shooing the girl away like she was a dog the girl went off looking back pulling a face how's your leg? Benedict asks missing and aching and driving me to distraction Anne says the ****** stump throbs and gets hot and it makes me a miserable sod can I see it Benedict asks what its like? you're a one aren't you always after seeing my stump later maybe not here with the nosey penguins gawking at everything we do a nun walks down to the table her eyes like black dots behind her wire spectacles ah Anne have you been upsetting the other children again? are you asking me or telling me? Anne says rubbing her leg eyeing Benedict Lina says you swore at her and told her to sit elsewhere the nun stares at Anne then at Benedict well? what happened the nun asks I never swear Sister I never swear I just said she could sit elsewhere be better for her I may have an illness she may catch and may bring her out in yellow spots the nun doesn't smile or move a muscle in her face her dark eyes move over Anne then Benedict well Benedict were you here? what happened and I want the truth or you'll not go to Heaven if you lie the nun says eyeing the boy scarily she didn't swear the boy says just said to go elsewhere the nun stares at Anne do not be horrible to other children they've as much right to sit here as you do now behave or I’ll report you to Sister Paul and then you'll know it the nun says and walks off like a rook unable to fly Anne farts and smiles sums her up that she says Benedict nods and looks at the table want to go to the beach? I can push you in the wheelchair? how old are you Kid? she asks ten nearly eleven he says she muses looks at him do you know how old I am? she asks eyeing him his quiff of hair the hazel eyes the skinny frame no idea Benedict says I’m twelve Kid although my mother says I’m big for my age got ******* and such Benedict looks past her head at the avenue of tree behind and the path to the beach got ***** hair too she adds to see if he'll blush what's that? he asks what’s what? Anne says ***** hair? he says that'd be telling wouldn't it spoil the surprise although you could always ask the good sisters and say dear Sister Paul what's this ***** hair stuff? she laughs to herself well Kid go get the wheel chair and off we go to the beach the boy smiles and gets up and walks quickly towards the nursing home Anne watches him go she winces and rubs her stump with her hands backwards and forwards she watches the other kids at play at the nuns walking here and there then Benedict comes across the grass pushing the wheelchair at a fair speed she smiles as he comes up to the table here we are one wheelchair he says slightly out of breath right bring it round here Kid and so he pushes the wheelchair next to her and manages to get herself in comfortably and rocks about until she's settled right then Kid did anyone stop you? yes he says Sister Agnes asked me where I was going with the wheelchair and I said you had need of it and she pulled a face then walked off with a face like a pinched behind Benedict says good on you Kid now let's' to the beach and away from the peasants and sickly she says so Benedict gets behind the wheelchair and pushes away from the table his arms outstretched his hands gripping the handles and off they go over the grass and onto the pebbly path between the trees and the sound of birdsong and the smell of the sea filling their noses and out the back gate and onto the path along by the sea the sounds of sea rush and waves and gull cries and people calling out and laughter and kids calling and crying and she says O this it Kid this is ******* living breathe in that air breathe in deep and Benedict breathes in deeply as he pushes her along the path smooth and easier and his thin legs pushing along the pathway and as he pushes he gazes down at her black haired head then at the red dress with the one leg sticking out the stump not visible but only the outline of it being there and the smell of the sea and salt in the air.

Helen passes me
her doll
Battered Betty
hold her
for a minute
she says

I hold the doll
between hands
away from me
in case she may
wet on me
as my old man
used to do
when my kid brother
was a babe
and he didn't want
the kid's ***
on his new suit

what's wrong with her?
I ask

she's got a temperature
Helen says

I look at the doll
who looks white
and cold and I smile

ok
I say
well take off
these clothes
and woollen jumper
no wonder she's hot
and got a temperature

we are walking along
Meadow Row
towards the fish
and chips shop
over the crossing
to get my mother's order

do you think
she's got a temperature?
Helen asks

I feel the doll's forehead
no it seems fine to me
I say

ok
she says
and take the doll back
and holds her
against her chest
rocking the doll
side to side
and patting
the doll's back

it's just she seemed
hot this morning
Helen says
when I got her
out of bed

whose bed?
I ask

mine
she says
the one I share
with my sister
with Betty between us
next to Teddy

I see
I say
seeing her rock
the doll side to side
like a good
little mother

she's lucky
I say
I sleep
with my little brother.

Goats milk? The woman said,
yes, I think I know a man who
can get you some, he keeps
goats you see. I nodded my

head. Our daughter can't drink
cow's milk brings her out in a
rash and gives her a funny
tummy. How old's your daughter?

The woman asked. About two
years or so, I replied. Yes, goat's
milk'll be best. She walked down
the path and off and I shut the door.

My daughters were playing some
game upon the floor, my wife
upstairs with our year born son.
We're getting you some goat's milk,

I said to Chan our second daughter.
Won't the goat mind me having its milk?
She asked. No,I said, it likes to share;
some for you and some for her.

And me? Danni said, I like goat's
milk, too, as I’m only three, and
three a small number next to two.
Yes, I suppose you both can, I said.

But not baby, Ole, she said, he's too
small, he has mummy's milk all to
himself. The girls carried on with
their game. I got ready to go to work

and the long walk there at a school
for boys a few miles away. I smoked
a quick cigarette watching our girls at play.

Daddy says
it's a sin
to see you

Fay tells me
as we meet
by Jail Park

she dressed in
a white skirt
and pink top

why is that?
I ask her
because you're

not Catholic
Daddy says
just seeing

me you mean
is a sin?
I ask her

or does he
mean meeting
me some place?

I don't know
she replies
he just said

seeing you
we went in
the park gates

and walk pass
the rose beds
the roses

coming out
in colours
of yellow

orange
and bright red
I thought sin

had to have
a wilful
element

I tell her
a deed done
knowingly

and with an
act of will
where did you

read all that?
she asks me
that pamphlet

you lent me
last Easter
I tell her

doesn't say
seeing me
was a sin

in the long
list of sins
I read there

we go in
sit on swings
and push off

with our feet
and ride high
so Daddy's

got it wrong?
she asks me
as she swings

past me high
yes he has
I reply

but don't tell
about that
she swings up

much higher
than I do
her white skirt

billows up
in the wind
I rise up

on the swing
pretending
my Spitfire's

blowing up
**** planes
in the sky

overhead
da-da-da
my pretend

machine gun
is sounding
in the air

Fay's skirt lifts
as she rides
showing off

underwear
but being
a good non

Catholic
kind of boy
I don't stare.

Abigail Abthing drew breath like water,
Breathed in the cold frost of morning.
Abigail knew pain like an old friend,

Knew its bite that gnawed her bones.
Always trust. Never leave it to others,
She’d say, gripping her hands together,

Biting her lips, closing her eyes.
Abigail knew cancer; knew its false promise.
Trust to none, but He who loves,

She said, feeling the burning
In her heart and head.
Abigail knew time was near,

Knew the knocking at the door
Was death; drew her last breath
Like a long forgotten word.

Elaine dreamed of herself
and the boy John.

Elaine dreamed
she was in a field
of long grass
with a cornflower
blue sky and white
cotton wool clouds.

The Elaine in her dream
was lying on her back;
her hands across her stomach,
eyes on John at her side.

He was talking of butterflies
or birds or bird's eggs.

She wasn't listening;
she was studying the sky,
and cloud movement,
feeling shy.

She turned in her sleep;
pulled the pillow
close to her face.

The John in the dream
put his hand up
inside her skirt;
he said he was looking
for her butterfly;
the Elaine in her dream
said nothing;
the Elaine smiled.

The hand became fingers
or a finger and entered her.

She turned over in her sleep
and lay on her back.

She sensed him there
a feeling of opening up
and needing to ***.

Alarmed she awoke;
the moon was in
the corner of her window
giving out a bright glow.

Why didn't the Elaine
in her dream
say something
not just lay there
she wanted to know.

Give these bacon rinds
to the dog
Auntie said

so I took the bacon rinds
from her hand
and took them out

on the black iron balcony
and holding one
of the bacon rinds up

over the reclining dog
I said
sit Dancer

and he sat up
eyeing the bacon rind
with his head tilted

to a degree
gently now
he took the bacon rind

gently between his teeth
and I let go my end
and he tossed it up

and caught it
in his mouth
and before he'd

swallowed it
he was sitting there again
with head tilted

looking at me
as I raised
another bacon rind up

and said
gentler Dancer
and he gently took

the bacon rind
between his teeth
and removed it

with the grace of a butterfly
then tossed it again
and swallowed it  

then sat again
and I held up
another bacon rind

and then put it
between my own
four year old teeth

and said
out of the corner
of my mouth

gently Gancer
and Dancer looked at me
and at the task ahead

and taking the bacon rind
between his teeth
he ever so gently

tugged at it
but I held onto my end
and there we were

each holding
the bacon rind
like two opposing dogs

he eyed me
and I eyed him
then I let go

and he tossed it up
and swallowed it
eyeing me

for the last piece of rind
I held it between
my small fingers

then tossed it
over the two storey balcony
to the ground beneath us

go get it Dancer
I said
and he raced off

down the black metal stairs
to fetch the last rind
did you give the dog

the bacon rind Benedict?
Auntie asked from inside
the apartment

yes Auntie I did
I said
in the gentlest voice

I could employ
good Benedict
good boy.

Enid told me
about the chair.
Just an ordinary
chair; wooden chair

with open spaces
at the back. Made
marks on her back
where he'd made her

sit so long and where
she leaned back. So
what did your old man
keep you in the chair

for so long for? I asked
as we stood by the metal
green painted fence
surrounding the grass

outside Banks House.
Cross examination,
she said, looking away
from me, her eyes behind

her thick lens glasses
gazing at the fresh fish
shop across the road.
What was he cross

examining you about?
Someone took money
from the money teapot:
15/- it was, so he said.

And he thought you
took it? She nodded
her head. Wasn't me,
I never took it. Who

did? No idea; my big
brother maybe, he
needs it, not me. I
looked at her standing

beside me by the fence,
our feet on the space
of pavement. Did he
hurt you? She bit her

lower lip. He kept me
in the chair. He said
he was keeping me in
the chair until I owned up.

And did you? I didn't take
the money. I thought he'd
give up once he realized
I never took the money

and let me go, but he
didn't, he walked around
me, hands behind his back,
asking me questions. And

where was your mother in
all this? She sat on the sofa
chewing on her handkerchief
saying: tell him the truth

Enid, tell him the truth.
Enid sat by the fence,
hands each side of her.  
So what happened? I asked,

looking for signs of bruises
and such. He walked round
me and said: I'm not letting
you go until you tell the truth.

I said I didn't take the money.
He clouted me about the head
after ten minutes. You'll not
get off this time, he said.

My head spun. My mum
left the room. He told her
go get some tea on. I looked
at him, but only as he passed

in front of me, not all the
way round so sometimes he  
was out of sight and I didn't
know what he was going to

do next. He hurt you after that?
I asked. He dragged me off
the chair and sat down himself
and gripped my wrist tight.

He made me stand there for
ages, him griping my wrist,
talking, talking. My legs ached.
Wanted to sit on the chair. She

was silent; looked at the fresh
fish shop. Then he dragged me
over, and hit me until I said
I had the money. And did you?

I asked. I knew she had.
The face told me. The eyes
behind her thick lens glasses
told me. She nodded, looked

away. A horse drawn coal
wagon went by along
Rockingham Street, the coal
man sitting on the sack cloth

seat dour faced. How about
some chips from Neptune's?
I said, looking at her, at her
grey faded flower dress and

the dull green cardigan, her
hair pinned back by two metal  
hair grips at the side. I didn't
have it, didn't have the money,

she said, just said it because
of him hurting me. I know,
I said, don't talk of it again.
She nodded and we walked

up Meadow Row, in the slow
beginning coming down rain.

The bruise
on Ingrid's thigh
was green and blue
and yellow

and about
two inches
in diameter
like some artist

had dabbed it there
to mix his or her
colours before
beginning a work of art

and I only saw it
as she reached up
to catch a ball
I threw in our ball game

on the grass
by Banks House
and it showed up
as her grey skirt rose

what's the bruise?
I asked
she stood pulling
her skirt down

with one hand
and holding the ball
with the other
I fell over

she said
going shy and red
don't lie Ingrid
you know and I know

who did it
he's always doing it
I said
she looked past me

at the windows
of the flats behind us
and upwards to others
higher up

I fell
she said
on the stairs running
from whom?

she threw the ball up
in the air
no one
she lied

I caught the ball
and stood holding it
in both my hands
you can't lie

as good as I can
I said
she sat down
on the grass

and I sat next to her
putting the ball
beside us
your old man right?

she nodded
and put her hands
on the grass
each side of her

I made him angry
talked too much
she said
looking at her shoes

and the white socks
he's a pig head
I said
he's my dad

she said
he gets angry
and hits you
and bruises you

and it's not
the first time either
I said
don't tell anyone

or it'll make it worse
she said
looking at me
with her eyes

behind her glasses
I won't tell no one
but he's still
a pig head

and if I get him
in the sights
of my six shooter cap gun
I'll blow a hole

in his thick fat thigh
she looked at me
not knowing whether
to laugh or cry.

What's arsenic?
Lydia asked

she broke the word down
into two components
making it sound  
a bit rude

it's a poison I think
I said

POISON?
she said loudly

we were walking up
Meadow Row
it was Saturday morning
and we were
on our way
to Saturday matinee

why?
I asked
looking at her sideways
taking in her lank hair
and thin frame

my mum said this morning
that she'd put arsenic
in my dad's tea
and poison can **** you
can't it?

can do yes
I said

and where does
she get it from?
Lydia asked

don't know
chemist I expect
it's a sort of chemical thing
I said

what if she gets me
to buy it
will I be arrested
for helping Mum
poison Dad?
will I hang
if I'm found guilty?
she said in desperation

we crossed the bomb site
off Meadow Row
over rough bricks
and rubble

I think she was kidding
just saying it
I said

she sounded serious to me
Lydia said

why'd she say it?
I asked

my dad came home
drunk again last night
singing at the top
of his voice
in the Square
I'll walk you home
again Kathleen
and  Mum was none
too pleased

I see
I said
looking at her
as we walked
the faded flower dress
she wore had seen
better days
and the cardigan
of off white
had only two buttons
I don't think
you can buy
arsenic that easy
these days
and they wouldn't sell it
to a nine year old girl
I said

they wouldn't?
she said

no not these days

but what if Mum buys it
and kills my dad?

she won't
she loves your old man
too much
I said

I don't think she does
Lydia said
not this morning any way

we walked across
the crossing and along
the New Kent Road

if she does
I said
and your old lady hangs
then I'm sure
my mum will adopt you
as my sister

Lydia looked at me seriously
I don't want
to be your sister
she said
I want to marry you
when we're older
and I can't marry
my brother can I?  

I looked ahead
as we approached
the ABC cinema
I guess not
I said

the thought hadn't entered  
my little boy's head.

Yiska sees
the key turn
in the lock

of the door
of the locked
ward; watches

as nurses
come and go
and the key

turns again
to lock in.
To escape

from the ward
one would need
to time it

for the split
minute of
unlockedness,

but one then
has to run
past the door

left open
to freedom,
if only

for a brief
time moment
until some

overweight
nurse gives chase
bringing you

down like prey.
Yiska knows;
she tried it

to her cost
and bruised hip
and grazed knee

the other
depressing
escape day.

I could slit the thin knife
along the inside of my arm
get the right artery
and SPLATTER
blood like some
Biblical flood,
Yiska says.

I sit beside her
in the locked
ward's lounge.

It's warm, cosy
and she's toying
with an idea
but no knife thin
or otherwise.

Just her thin
red painted
fingernail
moving down
the inside
of her arm.

I watch intently.

Will she scratch
herself a slit?
I muse.

Her pink nightgown
sans belt
opens up as she
uncrosses her legs.

Glimpse thigh
pass my eye.

Slowly slit it,
she says,
open up like
a red flower.

The red fingernail
makes an indentation,
but no slit.

Her other arm,
bandaged,
has a recent attempt
of slitting-
some guy
from the male ward's
razor blade borrowed-
should have seen it spurt,
she says,
as I gaze
at the bandaged arm,
shot across the room
like a line of red,
*******, the guy said.

Yiska fingernails
a line deep as she can,
pressing down hard.

Slit you ******* nail, slit,
she says.

Through a gap
in her nightgown's fold,
and legs moving
here and there,
I spy a sight of ***** hair.

I look away;
see the emptiness
of her deep eyes,
where a soul
or mind is wounded
and silently cries.