I miss you
coming in
and out each day;

I miss your quiet
presence as you stood
and thought;

I miss you standing
behind me as I write,
your soft spoken words
as you pointed out
an error in my work.

I miss your being here,
your wandering
from room to room
looking out for food;

that laughter,
that way you had
with wit and humour.

I miss you, my son,
miss the being of you
in my life.

I miss the presence
of you as each day
goes by;

I know you
are there
as I silently cry.

YOU'VE GOT NITS!
Helen's mum
bellowed out

who've you been
locking heads
with at school?

Helen said
a girl's name
sit elsewhere

have to sit
where we're put
Helen cried

kneeling down
as her mum
combed her hair

with a comb
her mum sighed
I'm sorry

not your fault
her mum said
kissing her

daughter's tear
dampened cheek
Helen's hair

was washed with
Derbac soap
and her mum

combed her hair
through and through
then later

rinsed it through
and combed it
and combed it

what a stink
that stuff's got
her mum said

without her
spectacles
Helen was

almost blind
just a blur
of colours

and odd shapes
but the damp
kiss on cheek

would last her
long after
the Derbac
shampoo's reek.

Nima doesnt see why she held be in a psychiatric ward when shes not psychiatric in any form whatsoever shes a drug addict for ***** sake pure and simple and she ought to be elsewhere but not here with these other people who do have problems but even to say the word to her parents drug addict sends them to panic and a form of denial better to have mental issues and tucked in here rather than have her their daughter labelled as a drug addict once her father- a doctor- when she was young would smack her if she crossed any boundaries he made for her but when she had grown that didnt work any more especially after the last time when he tried it and she bit his thumb and he slapped her face and she kicked his shins sending hoping around the room like loony dancer since then he had given up on any form of outer control and her mother also a doctor never knew how to control her daughter once she was out of nappies they had her put here not quite sectioned but as near as they could and visited hardly ever although her mother did come a few times out of curiosity but stayed only to see how Nima was doing or not as the case was and left Nima sits in the lawn area beyond the French windows in one of the white metal chairs around a circular metal white table smoking staring at the buildings glass and bricks and concrete and at a man sitting on the grass staring at his hands she looks away just in case he looks at her last time she saw him outside he had his ***** in his hands but not this time just his hands this time she feels like fix but there is no way to have one and the difficulties she has had getting though her days without a fix is like being emptied out and squeezed and left to dry and she wants and wants and a nurse comes out dressed in blue her hair tied in a ponytail and walks towards her in swagger have you taken your pills? pills? your medication the nurse says no I dropped them down the loo Nima says youve got to take your medication why didnt you take your medication? the nurse says irritably I just need a fix Nima says not medication youre here to get you off those drugs and the medication is there to help the nurse says I dont want drugs to get me off drugs I want the fix I like Nima says those are illegal drugs its against the law the nurse states standing hands on hips staring at Nima there is moment of silence Nima looks back at the man staring at his hands holding his ***** I want whatever medication he's on Nima says pointing to the man on the grass  the nurse follows Nimas finger and says no no Eric not here and runs towards Eric waving her hands in the air Nima looks away and smiles and takes a hug intake of smoke from the cigarette and wishes Benedict would come he would break the monotony of her life bring her cigarettes and chocolates and maybe a kiss or so and she lies back in the chair and closes her eyes and dismisses the voice of the nurse and Eric cursing at her and being taken back indoors much against his will she tries to bring to mind the time Benedict came and she sneaked him along to the small broom cupboard along by the corridor-unused on Sundays- and there they had a ****** quickie amongst brooms and mops and buckets and just enough room to lay and **** and she in a nightie lifted up and ******* tossed aside on a broom handle and he there unsure but at her in the short space and time allowed she opens her eyes and stares at the trees planted here and there on the green lawn no one knew but she guessed the nurses suspected when the cleaner on the Monday found a pair of her ******* on a broom handle-she hadnt missed them until later and forgot where shed left them- now they watch her and the cupboard and Benedict when he comes especially the head nurse who Nima suspects is a *** starved woman and is jealous that a patient gets it when she cant she stubs the cigarette end out on the white table top and lets it fall on the grass she sits and stares clothed in the blue nightgown they have given her over her white nightdress-in case she should attempt to escape without permission- some nights she lies in her bed in the ward in the semi-dark and wants a fix and *** and as the fix is out of the question she thinks of Benedict and pretends hes there beside her in her bed- ignoring the snores and mutters of other girls and women- and attempts a rather poor organism imaging it is Benedict there and not her fingers bringing her to a climate of sorts the nurse is there again swaggering over the grass towards her you have to take your medication again doctors orders the nurse says are you sure you discarded them? what? my *******? Nima says smiling no your medication have you really discarded them? Nima shrugs and says cant remember may have done she says looking at the nurses face the nurse inhales breath and stands hands on hips if you were my daughter Id...Words were lost...the sun was hot over head...white clouds...Benedict where you? well make sure you take the next medication I shall watch you like a hawk the nurse says walking away Nima raises her middle digit in a gesture at the departing back the same digit that brought her to a higher plane maybe to night she muses itll do it again.

Look at these
I show her
in my palm

three marbles
blue and green
and one red

Helen pokes
with finger
turns over

and over
then she stares
through thick lens

of glasses
at the shades
of colours

beautiful
she tells me
standing back

her enlarged
girly eyes
look at me

I then move
the marbles
from my palm

to pocket
of my jeans
can I hold

one of them?
she asks me
sure I say

and get one
and place it
in her palm

a small palm
delicate
like a pink

rose petal
the marble
seems a gem

to her eyes
she moves it
with finger

round and round
red and pink
becoming

almost one
in her palm
she smells it

she rubs it
beautiful
she utters

you keep it
I tell her
as a gift

she lifts her
teary eyes
upon me

you mean it?
she mutters
sure I say

she kisses
the marble
and puts it

in the small
dress pocket
and leaves it

to nest there
like an egg
then we walk

slowly up
Meadow Row
to get chips

from Neptune's
for lunch time
to eat on

the bomb site
and I wish
as we walk

I was that
red marble
resting there

in the green
dress pocket
lying there
all unseen.

When I pass
the office
where once

you worked,
my son,
I look up to see

if you are there
as once I use to do
before your

sad demise,
but you are not
of course,

just the windows
as they were,
emptier now,

less meaningful,
as one who looks
into a dark abyss,

remembering
the last spoken word
and final given kiss.

Milka sat on the grass outside the farmhouse. It was a warm day and insects buzzed the air. Benny had just gone off on his bike; she hadn't wanted him to go, but he had  to be some place else and he had ridden off. Her mother had arrived and was carrying bags of shopping from the boot of the car into the house. She gave Milka a look as if to say: You could help, but said nothing, hoping that a look would indicate the need, but Milka looked back at the road hoping Benny would return to her. Although they'd had *** in her bed-while her mother was out shopping- she felt she needed him still, as if the *** had not been enough, as if her appetite was bottomless. The mother disappeared inside the house, then came out again to the car for more bags. You could help rather than sit there looking into space, her mother said. Milka got up from the grass and made her way over to the boot of the car and picked out two of the lighter bags and carried them behind her mother into the house and placed them on the kitchen table. Anything else? Milka said. Her mother looked at her and saw the stance of her daughter and how reluctant she seemed to be of any real use and shook her head. No, wouldn't want to put you out in anyway, the mother said. I can help if you want me to, Milka said. Make me a drink of tea, then, her mother said. Milka filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove and lit up the stove with a match, then put three spoonfuls of tea into the teapot. She took two cups and saucers from the cupboard and laid them on the top. Her mother put away the groceries and then sat down at the table and  watched her daughter going about the task of tea making. What have you been doing while I’ve been shopping? Her mother asked, you were in bed when I left. Milka looked at her mother. The kettle began to boil. She said, got up and washed and dressed and ate breakfast. Her mother's eyes scanned her. That all? Her mother said. Had she seen Benny along the road? Had she passed him? She gazed at her mother for any clues or maybe a hint as if her mother was testing her. Benny came for a while, Milka said, he's just gone. I know, I saw him along the road riding his bike, her mother said, he waved. The two females looked at each other for a few moments in silence. What did you do? Her mother asked. Questions and questions. As if she suspected. She looked at her mother's face. Took in the eyes. I showed him the baby piglets, Milka said, he thinks they're cute. She had shown him the piglets just before he'd left. After the ***. After the *** and while she was still damp and yet still hungry for it. He's a good boy, her mother said, I like him. I know you do. If only you were younger. Milka nodded and looked at the kettle boiling and whistling away on the stove. She put the hot water in the teapot and stirred the tea-leaves around with a spoon. He'd make a good farm helper, her mother said, shame he's otherwise engaged in that nursery work. Milka poured two cup of tea and added milk and sugar. She took both cups in saucers to the table and sat down. He has worked on a farm he told me, Milka said, when he was thirteen helping out after school. Her mother smiled. And sipped her tea. It'd be good if he worked here, her mother said, on the farm. Yes, you'd like that wouldn't you, having him about the place so you could fuss over him, wishing you were younger, wishing you were a girl again. Ask him, Milka said, knowing he wouldn't, knowing he was happy where he was. I will next time I see him, her mother said. Milka sipped the tea. She still felt damp and sticky. She'd go up and wash down later. She watched her mother sipping tea, looking at the table, thinking. If only you knew what we did earlier, you'd not think him so good. She moved her bottom on the chair, to get comfortable. The image of Benny in her bed was still stuck there in her head. Her arms around his waist. He entering her. She sighed. Her mother looked up at her. What’s up with you? She asked, studying her daughter closely. Stomach pains, Milka said, the first thing that came up in her head. Her mother studied her. Can't believe you're that age, her mother said, don't seem long ago you were pushing a dolls pram around the place. I'm fifteen and have the week coming up, Milka said, pulling a face. When I was your age I’d started work, her mother said. I will when I leave school in July, Milka said, secretly rubbing herself below. Time flies, her mother said, draining her cup of tea, must get on with the housework. She stared at Milka. You can help by tidying your bed and your room, she said. The bed. She had tidied it a bit after the ****** acts, but it may need proper seeing to. Yes, I'll do it when I've drunk my tea, she said, hoping her mother wouldn't venture in her room before her, hoping she'd not see any signs. Make sure you do. I've never seen such an untidy room, her mother said. If she'd seen it earlier it was a right mess. Seen us. At it.  She blushed. Her mother had gone. She felt herself redden in the face. What if she had returned early? What if she had opened the door? Her heart missed a beat. It seemed too surreal to think about. Where was Benny now? Seventeen and at work for two years and she wants him here working? If she knew. She went to the window and peered out. It was warm out and the sky was a brighter blue.

Benedict never
hit a woman
but he came close
when Netanya

threw a cup
at his leg
during an argument
and it felt

as if she'd
cracked a bone
and he rose up at her
and stood almost

in mid air
and stared at her
knowing that
had it been a guy

he would have
decked him
with a right
but it was she

who stood there
in her 5'3' height
and he fumed
through his nose

and walked away
and said
if you hadn't
been a woman

I'd have put you down
and she said
didn't mean
to throw it

at your leg
I meant it
for your HEAD
and that was it

he went into the garden
to cool down
and she lit up
a cigarette

in the kitchen
and inhaled death
into her lungs  
he lit up

and inhaled
what he could
of calming juice
and after they'd

cooled down
she came out
in the garden
where he was sitting

in an old deckchair
and she kissed his head
and said
if you'd been a woman

I'd not have kissed you
like that
and he said
if you'd not been a woman

but a kissing guy
I'd have knocked you
in the eye
and she smiled

and walked away
and that was it
for another day.

You must practice, Yochana's mother says, you need to have the Schubert off better. Yochana moves her thin fingers over the keyboard, eyeing the music-sheet on the piano stand. Her mother walks behind her, eyes on her fingers' movement. Angela said some boy pays you attention, the mother says, focusing on the fingers, how they seem too stiff. What boy? Yochana says, pausing her playing, please to stop, eyeing her mother, thinking on the boy Benedict, the kiss he gave her on the cheek. Angela spoke of some boy at school in your class, the mother says, and play on, your fingers are stiff while playing. There is no boy, Yochana says, lying, but trying to do a professional job at it, but not that good as her eyes give her away, proceeding to get her fingers playing over the keyboard once again, bring the Schubert back to life. Then Angela is either mistaken or lying are you saying? Her mother says. Yochana says nothing, wondering how much Angela had said, and how much pressure Mother put her on the poor girl. I've told you about boys, you have no time yet for boys, not while at school at any rate, and it then needs to be the right boy, and I cannot see there being that kind of boy at that school, the mother says slowly, but with emphasis on the word -right boy-, and still the firmness in the way of speech. Yochana comes to the end of the Schubert piece and puts her hands in her lap. She sits stiff. She hears her mother breathing, pacing behind her. Still too stiff in playing, she says, and this boy and I assume there is a boy or Angela would not have mentioned one and I do hope you are not taking to the art of deception, Yochana, as you do not have that skill to any great degree. Yochana turns and looks at her mother. Just a boy in class and it's nothing, she says, never going to mention the kiss on the cheek, she thinks, eyeing her mother's eyes. And what is he up to, this boy? Nothing, just a boy in class who stare sat me. And why does he stare at you? Have you been encouraging the boy to stare? Yochana shakes her head. Her dark hair moves from side to side. Of course not, she says, seeing Benedict near her in her mind. So why does he stare? the mother asks, leaning over Yochana, her hands each side of the piano-stall on which Yochana sits. Maybe he likes to stare at me. Don't be flippant, the mother says, Angela says he seems too friendly with you. Too friendly? Yochana senses herself blush and tries to add distraction by turning and playing a few bars of Beethoven, he's just a boy who stares and jokes. Then discourage him, the mother says firmly, or I will write to the Head and complain. I do discourage him as best I can, she lies, bringing the Beethoven along fiercely. A slap drives her hands from the keyboard and into her lap where she digs them deep between her thin thighs. Don't try and distract me my girl or you will  be pushing me to my limits and you know what that means, the mother says. Yochana looks down at the keyboard, senses the sting of pain on her hands. She nods. I will ask Angela to keep an eye on this boy and you it seems. Angela and her big mouth, Yochana muses, looking at the motionless keyboard, black and white keys. She sees Benedict kissing her again on her cheek just out of the blue that day. It was sudden. Smack on the cheek. Damp, warm. He standing there smiling. She stirred up, but pretending not to be. Understand me? Her mother says, turning Yochana around to face her, gazing into her daughters eyes, through the thin wired framed glasses. Yes, I understand, she says, trying not to look at her mother, attempting to hide her tears coming, the sting of hands. Then go to your room and focus on the English work, otherwise you will get behind with that and you will need that if you are to make anything of yourself at that school, her mother says, standing back allowing room for her daughter to rise up from the piano stall and move. Yochana walks away from the piano looking away from her mother, her eyes watery. And remember, girl, you are only fourteen not twenty one, still a child, the mother says at her daughter disappearing back. Yochana says nothing, but walks out of the music room and up the stairs, one foot climbing after the other in a slow determined fashion. She knows what her mother is implying. She remembers how strict her mother can be. She walks to her room, opens the door and enters, closing the door behind her and leans against it. Tears fill her eyes. Angela's big mouth. No doubt innocently said. Mother pushing it. Squeezing all she could out of the dim girl until it had all she needed. I'll see Angela and have a word. Keep it quiet. Mouth shut. Or I'm for it, I'll tell her, Yochana  says to herself, moving away from the door and picking up the English grammar and lies on the bed. That sort of boy. That kind of school. Was Benedict that kind of boy? What kind was he? She didn't know. Not her mother's idea of a right type of boy. Kiss on the cheek. She felt her cheek where she recalls he kissed her. Fingers feel there. The sting in her hand is still there as she moves her fingers. She puts the English grammar book beside her on the bed and closes her eyes, pushing out tears. She places a hand to her cheek. Rubs it. Takes the fingers from her cheek and puts the fingertips to her lips and kisses, then slowly blows the invisible kisses towards the window, hoping to God her mother doesn't see the invisible kisses flyby and go.

There was a knife fight
in Stockholm the night before
and next morning
Dalya says to me

did you see it?

yes I was a few feet away
just broke out
like a struck match
two guys near me
began pushing
and one drew a knife

what did you ?

sold tickets

no really ?

nothing I just moved out
of harms way
and wondered what
it was about
there was a dame nearby
so maybe they
were fighting over her
I say

was she screaming?
Dalya asks

no she was saying
stop it
and don't be fools
and such words

and did they?

no they kind of
encircled each other
then a siren went off
and cops came
and they melted
into the crowd
and I walked on
to the nearest bar
for a beer and smoke
where were you?
I ask

looking for you
you weren't where
you said you'd be
I met that Polish
mother and daughter
and we went off
in the city and yes
it was ok
but I wanted
to meet you
I couldn't invite them
into my tent could I?

guess not
anyway we can
go off today
in the City
and maybe I can
enter your tent tonight
now the German girl's
gone off
with the Aussie
I say

I'm promising nothing
she says

so we went into the City
on a bus about 10
and I felt
like a prince
amongst men.

Elaine walked home with her sister after getting off the school bus she had looked up as the bus drove off and stared to see if John was looking and he was and she smiled or she is sure she did smile then after the bus had gone she wondered if she had smiled or not or whether she had imagined she had done so her sister walked on chatting about her day Elaine just listened as much as she thought she ought but deep down she was not interested in her sisters day she was more concerned about John and how he had talked to her and named her after a butterfly but now she had forgotten the name of the butterfly was it Peacock or whatever she couldnt recall and did it matter? no it didnt stay in her mind the name so it couldnt have been important  at all she thought looking past her sister at the trees and the hedgerow which they walked past when they entered the house her mother was in the kitchen preparing the dinner her sister talked to her mother about her day but apart from saying hello and yes she was all right Elaine walked up the stairs to her room and shut the door and put her school bag on the floor and walked to the window and stared out at the garden and the trees and birds in the air and she thought of John and his talk of birds and how he sought out their nests not to invade or destroy but to study and see what nest it was and how many eggs and what was the name of the butterfly he said she was? she couldnt recall and looked back at her bed at the neatness of it after her mother had made and tidied up and her favourite doll lay next to her pillow she lay down on the bed and crossed her legs at her ankles and put her hands over stomach and stared at the ceiling white but with a spider black and plump settled in the corner by the window she hated spiders hated the way they settled there as if waiting for the lights to go out at night then creep along above her bed and then silently lower themselves down into her bed or head or on her pillow she thought of john how he had talked to her even though she had stormed off a while ago after the kiss he gave her and it had unsettled her but now she wondered if he would kiss her again and if he did how she would feel next time she sighed and looked at her feet at the shoes black and slightly scuffed and she knew her mother would tell her off for having her shoes on while laying on the bed she stared at the shoes then eased them off with one foot after the other the shoes falling to the floor and her feet just having the white socks on and she wiggled her toes and sighed and closed her eyes and wondered what John was doing now and if he was at home now and what he was thinking and was he thinking of her as she was thinking of him she mused trying to imagine him in her minds eye wondering if he would kiss her kiss her the Frump as the other kids called her at school he had once kissed her she embraced herself her hands on her shoulders crossed over her ******* imagining that maybe he would embrace her like that and hold her close to him and if he did how would she react and why did he blush so easily as she had when he seemed to take note of her she wanted to pretend he was there beside her now here in her room where she felt safe and here on her bed so she could hold him and he hold her but what then? kissing? and how would her body react to that? She didn't understand her body it seemed to act on its own like it did that time when he kissed her and her body acted almost independently of her heart plump faster and her pulse raced that day and O God she had thought sh'd wet herself  but she hadnt it was just a thing about him how he could affect so even if she didnt think her did he did she pulled the pillow from behind her head and held it close to her feeling it with her fingers with eyes still closed she imagined it was he there his body she was holding soft not firm she sniffed it it smelt of herself her shampoo her sweat her not him she held it against her ******* kissed the top pretending it was he whom her lips touched but it wasn't like him when he kissed her that day it seemed so soft like a feather touching but it was him his lips touched her so softly yet stirred her so much she hugged the pillow tighter yet hugging it made her feel uneasy what if it was him she was hugging where did things go from there she wondered what happened next when he had kissed her that day his hands had touched her back one hand moving over bottom and yet she wasnt so aware at the time of the effect it was afterwards after he had gone that she realized that he had touched her there or the maybe it was like a palm print there at least she imagined so was that what happened? was it touching too? where touching? O she pushed the pillow away from her and opened her eyes and stared at the pillow laying there white and soft and lifeless an aunt had said to her a while ago beware of boys Elaine they only want to get into your ******* and yet her aunt had never said why or what the boys were after and she hated being fourteen at times she wanted to be nine or ten again when thing seemed simple and her body did what it was told but now it seemed to do what it wanted and not what she thought it should she sighed and put the pillow under head again and lay on her side and stared at the wall her hands tucked between her thighs her mind full of what ifs and sad sighs.

Sonya sips
the white wine
I sip beer

we'd just seen
Das Rheingold
by Wagner

in London
she is blonde
and quite tall

and Danish
what you think?
you like it?

she asks me
yes I did
very much

I reply
I’ve seen all
of Wagner's

Ring cycle
but not in
the order

he composed
why is that?
she asks me

how over
the four years
I’ve seen them

I tell her
she sips more
of her wine

I light up
one of my
cigarettes

and inhale
you know who
Jesus Christ

really was?
she asks me
Son of God

so they say
I reply
no she says

He was God
existing
as a man

with all man's
frail limits
in body

and in mind
Son of God
I tell her

not at all
God himself
no second

close person
just himself
being man

for a short
duration
in our sad

history
of being
then why come?

I ask her
just to be
to try out

our frail case
not to judge
or redeem?

I ask her
to judge what?
redeem whom?

He came to
act out His
acting role

in His own
sad drama
she tells me

Nietzsche said
God is dead
I tell her

so He is
we killed Him
she replies

looking past
her blonde hair
at the bar

I see Christ
beard and all
sitting there

drinking wine
preparing
so it seems

to fine dine
with some dame
dressed in red

alive still
in His role
as actor

and not dead
as is said
but Sonya

doesn't see
and sips wine
and I say

nothing more
but listen
to the tide

of the sea
on a far
away shore.

All through double science Sheila thought about the boy shed seen go by that mid-morning break not that hed looked at her too much or responded to her shy smile but she thought of him even to the degree of inking in his name on her small palm John scribbled there in black smudgy ink and she thought he had looked at her he seemed to look at her the way he had turned his head indicated to her at that time that he had and the science teacher talked of something to do with gases and she copied what he had written on the board into her exercise book in her minute scribble with her head to one side has she did while writing her arm at an angle her small hand gripping the pen in an odd fashion he had smiled yes she was sure John had smiled as she had smiled she sighed softly her eyes lifted to the blackboard to take note of what was written her hands scribbled her mind wanted to think of the boy with the quiff of hair the smile yes yes he had smiled and she wanted to stand up and say HE SMILED AT ME as loudly as she could but she never would she was not that type of girl a elbow nudged her the girl next to her nudged her and nodded towards the blackboard the teacher was pointing out something and asked her a question and Sheila had not heard him ask her the teacher was staring towards her expectantly she blushed sorry Sir didnt hear the question she muttered looking at the board and then at the teacher who seemed put out then listen girl listen he said then pointing to another to answer the question he repeated and Sheila still blushing looked at the girl next door and shrugged her thin shoulders the girl looked at her blankly and looked away she looked ta the blackboard and read it through slowly as she could taking note what had been written about gases and she stifled a yawn and looked back at the exercise book and what she had written in her scribbled handwriting she looked at the inner page where she had scribble John and drew a heart-shape with an arrow through it she held the page open just enough for her to see it then opened the book to wait for further instruction regarding gases the teacher walked along in front of the class pointing to the blackboard and indicating a diagram he had drawn Sheila wondered if the boy allow her to hang around with him after all she had seen other girls walk round with the boys either in groups or singly why couldnt she? she asked herself sitting up and staring out of the windows at the grass and the blue of sky over the way and what if he said yes how would she feel then would she walk with him or would she feel too shy to  and then all of a sudden she panicked what if he wanted to kiss her as shed other boys do with girls actually kiss on the lips sort of thing and shed never ever kissed a boy before not even her brother Bert a panicky feeling crept into her stomach what then? what if he wanted to kiss her a piece of chalk pinged onto the desk in front of her and the girl next to her elbowed her again SHEILA are you with us today? the teacher asked bellowing her name out of frustration she nodded and blushed again have you been listening? he asked yes Sir she said what did I ask? he said she stared at him blood pumped through body as if she was on fire and she shrugged as words wouldnt come see me after class he said and walked along the front of the class and asked another a boy with his hand raised she watched the teacher and listened to what he was saying about gases and types of gases and the affects and effects and so on and she felt the need to yawn but put her hand over her mouth and let it out secretly as softly as she could she smelt her palm then gazed at the word John scribbled there and with her lips kissed the inked name as if it was he she kissed her lips on his and she felt spittle on her palm and wanted to leave it there so she could pretend it was his spittle and not hers she looked up at the teacher and tried to give the impression of paying attention to his every word the boy had his hand up again as a question was asked and the teacher nodded and smiled then just as she prepared herself for any potential question that may come her way-God forbid- a bell rang for the end of the lesson and a sense of release flowed through her despite having to have stay and see the teacher afterwards there was a movement of books being put into bags and chairs being moved and voices and talking and the slow moving of bodies towards the door but the teacher was eyeing her as she moved towards him her book tucked away in her bag her palm clenched into a loose fist to hide the scribbled John in her palm she stood before the teachers desk and he stared at her sternly Sheila have you something on your mind? she shook her head feeling the need at that moment almost suddenly to urinate well you certainly were not paying attention to the lesson were you? he asked something worrying you? he asked she was going to say something but she didnt know what to say she couldnt say she was thinking of a boy and about if or not he was going to want to kiss her so she said nothing just shrugged her thin shoulders and gave a vacant expression-an expression her mother said indicated a near death experience-you must pay attention the teacher said I am paid to teach you as well as the others the sciences and I feel it is my duty to do my best to do that do you understand? she nodded taking note of the leather patches on the elbows of his jacket brown and sewn on maybe she thought by his wife or mother now please listen Sheila or youll get behind with the lessons Ok? she nodded and he dismissed her and she walked towards the door wondering if the boy would be on the playing field during lunch recess and if she had the nerve to ask him if she could hang around with him and if he would want to kiss her and o my God she thought panicking what if he did and she blushed at the thought and moved along the corridor amongst moving throng of other kids on their way to lunch or home and a bite to eat and she stood thinking of the boy gazing at her black shoed feet.

She shyly smiled.

Bespectacled,
with white blouse
and loose fitting tie,
she waited by the wall,
sitting, ankle socks,
black shoes, laced.

John passed with Rennie,
hands in pockets,
talking about Mr S
in P.E and the lengths
the guy'll go
to make his authority felt
and the country run
later that day.

Sheila watched him go.

Her thin wired spectacles
enlarging him
and focusing him
up for her.

She wanted to follow
and ask him if she
could hang out with him,
but she feared rejection
and so sat
and watched instead
until he and Rennie
were on the school
playing field
during recess.

She played
with her fingers,
looked around
the grounds,
watched other girls
pass by, braver,
more confident
than she,
more aware
of their worth
or what they
had to offer.

Wear this,
her mother said,
wear that,
don't sit so,
keep your knees together
in the presence
of boys and men
while sitting.

John, she watched,
on the playing field
with the boy called Rennie,
taking in his walk,
his gesture with hands,
his nod of head
or and how
the quiff of hair,
can drive her
to despair,
and maybe
much beside,
if her mother's dominance
wasn't there
in side

Abela
sees nothing
in Renoir's

kind of art
she prefers
Constable

or Rembrandt
so she says
as we lie

in the bed
after ***
cooling down

we smoking
cigarettes
a slight breeze

in the air
a window
half open

moon and stars
visible
those women

at the bar
she utters
with those

hairy men
how could they?
could they what?

fancy them
like sleeping
with an ape

we each have
our own taste
I tell her

I couldn't
not with them
she tells me

I'm glad she
fancies me
and my beard

as I kiss
between thighs
listening

as I do
to her moans
and her sighs.

The peasant monk
walks slow
through the cloister

carrying a bucket
gripped in his
peasant hand

- red knuckles,
head bowed-
I **** the beds

around the cloister garth
-she had me
between her thighs

and the excitement
within her eyes-
Dom Leo

tall and slim
waits outside
the refectory door

to say farewell
before he leaves
for Rome

the following day
-She ****** me dry
in her bed
gazing eye to eye.

Benedict walks from
the men's dormitory
into the lounge of the
locked ward passing

the night nurse still
on duty in her small
office. Yiska is sitting
on the black sofa smoking

a  cigarette, a packet
of cigarettes on the small
coffee table with a plastic
lighter. She looks up when

he enters and says, Want
a cigarette? Thanks, he says
and takes one from the
packet and lights up, and

sits beside her on the sofa.
He's dressed in a dressing
gown over his pyjamas; she's
in a pink nightgown over

what he can't see, and looks
over towards the window
showing early dawn sky
and trees. Life goes on out

there, she says, while we're
stuck in here like ******
Humpty Dumpty's. Benedict
nods and says, And all the

king's horses and all the
king's men can't put us
together again. Silly nursery
rhyme that is, she says, how

can ****** horses put you
together again? even these
****** quacks can't do it
so I'm sure horses can't.

She inhales on the cigarette.
Benedict looks at her beside
him. How did you get in here?
he asks. I was jilted by my

so called fiancé at the altar
and I had mental breakdown,
she says after exhaling smoke
into the lounge. You? she asks.

Tried to stab myself, he says,
so they brought me here, then
I tried to hang myself, so they
locked me in here sans belts

or laces. You tried to hang
yourself in the bogs, didn't you
while here? He nods. Yes, I
borrowed one of the others'

dressing gown belt, he says.
****** persistent aren't you?
she says, smiling. He nods. Now
I'm watched like a blue-arsed

fly round a birthday cake. Did
you have the ECTs? she asks.
He nods and looks at her thigh
showing through the gap of her

gown. Not any good apart from
a headache, he says. I hate them,
she says, I'd rather slit my wrists
and be done with. She inhales

deeply and looks at him. She
takes in his hazel eyes and quiff
of hair and haunted look about
his eyes. Something, he says,

within us dies. Or's killed, she
replies, in a sad voice with a
dark depth to her gazing eyes.

Miriam likes the sun.

Miriam wears her
skimpy bikini on
the Moroccan beach.

Benedict prefers
the shade.

Benedict likes
the skimpy bikini
that Miriam wears
he watches her
as they walk the sand
hand in hand.

She has her sunglasses
pushed to the top
of her red-headed hair
and her freckled face
absorbs the sun
making her
blush looking
in skin and flesh.

He has his sunglasses
over his eyes
from which
he secretly spies
other girls
apart from her
in skimpier bikinis
or fuller filled
or taller than she
or such may be...

Cooler last night
she says eyeing him...

Cool indeed
says he and how
was she who
shares your tent?...

Miserable as sin
with her mouthful
of moans
Miriam says
taking in his brown
quiffed hair
and his far off stare...

I have the ex-army guy
Benedict says
and his tales of woe
and depressive thoughts
eyeing a passing girl
in tight pink shorts...

If only you
were in my tent
with me
she says
it would be time
well spent
not have her moans
and groans to hear...

That time I did
after the nightclubs
of Tangier till dawn
says he
you had your moans
and groans
to fill the air...

Mmm
she says smiling
if only you were
still there making love
with your hands
in my hair...

Too true
says he studying
with shaded eyes
Miriam's assets
bikinied or not
as best he dare.

We leave the cinema
after the film
it's getting late

Sophia says
you go to my place?

won't your parents
be there?
I ask

no they out
not be back  
till late
she says
they go to theatre
in London see play
by Polish writer

I see
I say
looking at her
standing there
but it's still late
I say

it not matter
I get you coffee
then maybe see
what happen
she says

I am reluctant to go
to her place
as it's a good walk away
and it means
I'll have to get
a taxi home
and take the risk
her parents aren't
home earlier

Sophia says
I show you
my parent's bedroom
it is good

I look at her
standing there
smiles
blonde hair
neat dress

ok
I say

so we take a taxi
to her parents' place
(save time and effort)
and she takes me
in by the front door
and turns on the lights

see no one here
she says
place to ourselves

she take my coat
and we go
into the lounge

I get coffee?
but wait after yes
we go see
my parents' room

so we go upstairs
and she opens
her parents' bedroom door

she says
they have big crucifix
above bed see
so the Christ can see them
keep them safe
but he has eyes closed
so not see them
doing stuff
she smiles

I look in the room
and there is
the big wooden crucifix
with a plaster Christ
painted with all
the skin and wounds
and such

now I show you
my room
she says

she takes my hand
and we walk along
the landing  
and she opens
the door to her room

what you think
it good yes?

yes it is good
I say
taking in
the single bed
with matching covers
pillows and curtains

but now we can
have coffee
I say

not yet
she says
we have the *** first
and then coffee?

but what if
your parents'
come back early?

they not be back yet
be hours

she is eager
she undresses
as she shuts
the door behind us

I stand there uncertain
fiddling with my tie

come on
she says
not waste time

she is already
down to her underclothes
and she begins
to unbutton my jeans

we have it
you not want?

just as I'm about to reply
we hear a door
open and close
and voices downstairs

she freezes
her unbuttoning
and looks in mid air
as if there was
an answer there

quick get dressed
she says

and she runs
to the light
and switches it off
and puts her clothes on
in the darkness

I look at her outline
shadowy
her Polish curses
fill the air in whispers
razor sharp

I tighten my tie
and prepare
in my mind
to die.

Nima stares at the ward.
Nima wants to cause a scene.
She wants to raise hell.

The few nurses on duty
are not busy.
They're stuck in

an office yakking.
If she'd been sick
in the body and not

in the head or wasn't
a druggie they'd
be all over her

like sick of a baby.
Since she's backslided
and got a hit

from some idiot
she's on watch now
and not allowed out

except in the grounds.
She ***** on a cigarette
and inhales on it.

Watches the laughing nurses
in the office.
If she was able

she'd lock
the ******* in.
She walks along

the small area of grass
outside peering in.
She's no one to talk to.

The other patients
**** her off.
Talk nonsense.

She's one of the few
druggies on the ward
the others are mental cases.

Jewel's ok.
She's a manic depressive.
Gives her cigarettes.

Talks to her
in a deepness
she can almost drown in.

On a bad day
Jewel'll not talk at all
but sit staring at a wall

or lay in bed
with a blanket
over her head.

Jewel talks of ECTs.
She sees them take her off
sometimes and then

she's gone sometime
and comes back
dreary eyed and moody.

Nima wants a hit or ***
or something to break
the monotony.

Benedict said he'd come.
She waits for him.
She watches for him

at visitors time.
The few visitors that come
could fill a telephone box.

She wants him to come.
Wants him.
They had a quickie once

in a small room off
the side corridor.
Uncomfortable but good.

She peers in the ward.
A few visitors arrive
and stroll in

and some bring flowers
or chocs or nothing.
Benedict arrives

and sees her outside
and comes out to her.
Wasn't sure if you'd come

she says.
Said I would
he says.

He hands her a packet
of cigarettes
and a Mars bar.

She stuffs them
in the pocket
of her dressing gown.

They talk.
Walk on and around
the small area.

The nurses watch them.
She knows they're
being watched.

It makes her feel
wanted in an odd way.
She kisses him.

They kiss.
Her hand around
his waist her

the other hand
holding a cigarette.
He hugs her close

one hand
touching her behind.
They kiss again.

Clouds darken. Sky fills.
Looks miserable.
Looks like rain.

Yiska waits by the fence. The school's on the other side. Yiska waits for Benny; he is at lunch, she waits impatiently. The playing field is crowded with other kids; some girls sit in groups talking and laughing. Yiska sees boys coming out, Benny not amongst them. She waits arms folded,a face on her. Alma said she'd told her brother about her. Alma was her best friend. That's the boy, Yiska had told Alma. He's my brother, Alma said. Good, you can tell him, I fancy him, Yiska said. Alma had said she told him. Yiska waits; walks along the fence; sees other boys. No Benny. She has visions of things going places. Not that she'd tell Alma that. Some things are best not told. She looks towards the playing field; girls and boys in groups or couples or alone. She looks back towards school. He's there, Benny, walking by the fence, hands in pockets, school tie hanging loose, shirt unbuttoned at the neck. Alma said you wanted to see me, Benny says, looking at Yiska, his eyes hazel, his look, steady. Yes, I did, Yiska says, feeling her nerves beginning to unravel. Rick said you wanted to see me, too,  Benny says. My brother? Yiska says. Yes, the very one, Benny says. They stand by the fence, face to face. Only he said, you fancied the socks off me, Benny says, smiling. I never said. She looks past him. Yiska feels undone. Anyway I'm here, Benny says. Only said I liked you, she says, looking at him now, seeing his hair, the quiff, the smile. He looks her over quickly: eyes, hair, lips, hips, thighs shape of. Shall we go for a walk? Yiska asks. Sure, he says. Where? She asks. Benny shrugs. On the field? She nods. They walk off together, apart. His hands are still in his trouser pockets. She walks hands in front, fingers joined, prayer mode .Cat got your tongue? He says. No, no, just thinking, she says. Of what? Me? My socks? She smiles. She looks at him sideways on. What do you fancy? He asks. Who said I fancied anything? Yiska says, blushing slightly. Rick did, Alma hinted, Benny says, My socks, apparently, he adds. She looks at the playing field. Folds her arms. Stops and looks at him. I never said fancied. So what then? He says. She looks at her shoes: black, dull, unpolished. Maybe, a bit, I do, she says, looking at his shoes: black, scuffed. He takes his hands out of his pockets. Touches her arm, feels along until he reaches a hand. Nice hand, he says. She lets him hold it, feels his hand touching hers. Warm, soft. Taking her hand, they walk on. How much? Benny asks. How much what? Yiska says. Do you fancy me? He says, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand. Fancy's an odd word, she says, interested, more, she adds. O, I see, not fancy me at all, he says. She looks uncertain, the blush spreading. If I were in your bedroom would you fancy me there? He asks. What a question, she says, feeling her pulse increasing, imagining him there, in her room, her bed made-unusual for her- but made up tidy. I'd fancy you anywhere, Benny says, in a nice way of course, not necessarily in your bedroom. She looks at the high fence, the road beyond, traffic passing. He looks at her hair, the way her ears are just visible if she moves her head a small bit; lobes, suckable. Alma didn't say you fancied me, Benny says, but Rick did. *******, Yiska says, just like him. She looks at the wooded area to the left of the playing field. Went there once to fetch a rounders ball that got hit there in P.E, she muses. Could go in there, she says, pointing. Best not, he says, people may get wrong ideas. Think things. He sits on the grass, pulls her down, next to him. Safer here, he says, holding her hand, still. She sits next to him, crosses her legs, pulls her school skirt over her knees. She senses his hand there. Warm, wet, heated. How old are you? He asks. Same age as Alma. Thought so, he says. How old are you? She asks. Fourteen, he says, leave school at Christmas, be fifteen, then. She looks at his hand in hers. Wish I could leave school then, too, she says. I can't wait, he says. No more brain-washing. She looks at his eyes. Hazel, bright. I will dream of him tonight, she thinks, I'll dream of him next to me. His hand in mine. Mine hand in his. Will we kiss? She imagines so. Must not make too much noise though. Mother hears things too well, she thinks, looking at his chin, the jawline. What will you do? She says. When? He asks, looking at her school tie, tied in an untidy knot, her small ******* bulbs. When you leave school? She says. Don't know, want to be a mechanic, maybe car mechanic, he says, wondering what she would be like if she was beside him on her bed or his bed for that matter, but then she'd had have his younger brother there, too. Then you won't be here, she says. No, thank God, he says. I'll miss you being here, she says. Can always visit you weekends if I get a bus, he says, wondering if her bed wouldn't be better as she slept alone. She strokes his hand in her as if it were a cat. He looked past her at the other kids on the grass. Reynard was playing football as was Trevor. That'd be good, she says, I could meet you off the bus, if you came. If you like, he says, watching Trevor almost score a goal. She looks at his hazel eyes, the smile, Elvis like, the quiff of brown hair, his hands, she muses, stroking with her other hand. I don't want to appear forward, she says, but could we kiss? He looks back at her. Kiss? He says, looking at her lips and cheek and forehead. Where? He asks. Here, she says. Where, here? He says, homing in on her lips with his eyes. Not here on the field here, she says, blushing, looking around in case others are watching. Where, then? He asks, looking at her eyes, seeing himself there, small and untidy. Maybe, at school, in a corridor that's empty or in a doorway, she says. Why not here? He asks, no one will care a jot if we do. She bite her lip, releases his hand, looks past him, behind him. What will they say? She asks. Who? He says. Others around, she says, returning her gaze on him. Who gives a monkey, he says. I do, she replies, reddening in the face. He gets up to leave. Look, I am missing a game of football sat here, another time maybe, he says. No, no, don't go, she says, clutching at his hand, being pulled up as she does so. She stands beside him, still holding his hand. I can watch, too, she says. He looks at her, feels her hand in his. OK, he says, if you want. I do, she lies, walking with him towards the boys kicking a ball around. She senses the grass was  a bit wet because she is. She feels it. They stand and watch the boys in their game. She feels uncomfortable. Feels slightly undone, but they watch the game, she unkissed, but watching the boys having fun.

Milka sits in the park.
Milka has a mood.
She stares ahead
with eyes

sharp as razors;
her hands either side
of her on the grass.
I sit beside her.

I look at her
staring ahead.
My hands are
around my knees.

Her eyes are icy;
one could freeze in them.
Nearly caught us
that time,

she says.
Nearly being
the operative word,
I say.

Her words
have an edge to them;
one could slit
a throat on them.

Her mother nearly
caught us at it.
We were in her room.
We were on her bed.

Door opening
and closing down stairs.
Kids ride by
on their bikes.

Small kids
with goofy smiles.
Milka stares at them.
Milka follows them

along the grass
with her icy eyes.
I remember her panic
in her eyes

as we heard the sounds
of her mother in the kitchen.
Milka dressing in haste.
Milka hopping

on one leg.
I dressed in a trance.
Sounds seeming nearer.
A guy walked by

with his dog.
The dog had out
a long pink tongue.
White teeth sharp

as Milka's eyes.
God knows what
if she'd caught us,
Milka says.

Mm-mm,
I say.
Laughter near by.
A group of girls

giggling like geese.
One girl wears jeans.
Her **** holds it well.
Flushed as a slapped face

Milka having dressed
waited for me
at the door of her room.
Sounds from the kitchen.

Her mother busy.
The sun warms us.
White clouds overhead.
I smell her perfume.

She breathes heavy.
Moody as blues.
The girl in tight jeans
has gone into the duck

pond area out of sight.
Milka sighs.
Milka looks at me.
I think she

believed you,
Milka says.
She does you.
Butter wouldn't

she thinks
in your mouth.
Three boys kick ball
across the way.

Milka studies me.
I look at the boys
at their game.
Tidying my room

with me,
Milka says,
she believed that
because of you

and that you said it.
It had been
a close thing.
It had been close.

My pecker stiff
in my jeans
as I spoke to her mother.
Her mother smiled.

Her mother said
it needed tidying.
I liked her mother's smile.
Warm and cosy

as a mother's love.
Cosy and warm
as a hat on a head.
Milka says,

nearly made it
in my single bed.

Yehudit sat on the grass by the pond Benny sat beside her she was looking at the ducks and dragonflies hovering and taking off in a long flight he was thinking of the death of Marilyn Monroe announced on the radio that morning and how he had kissed the photograph he had of her on his wall a small photo he had got through some club it was in black and white and he adored looking at her standing there cant believe shes dead Benny said who? whos dead? Yehudit asked looking around at him Marilyn Monroe on the radio news this morning he said how did she die? they think suicide overdose or something he said she looked away why did she do that? she asked no idea he said Yehudit lay back on the grass put her hands behind her head come lay beside me for a while she said he lay back beside her then turned to face her sideways on he took in her eye looking up at the blue sky blue as blue on blue he thought the flush of her cheek her nose her lips parted just so as to see teeth her ear covered by her brown hair she turned towards him so that both eyes were on him now blue on hazel we can if you want to she said studying him intensely can we? if you want to she said should we? he said and thought of the first time that time in the school gym once midday when the gym was empty and theyd gone in for a quick kiss and well one thing led to another and even though they were risking it they did and even though she had tried to be quiet she let out the moans under her breath and he momentarily on high had uttered yes yes yes and they had only just rearranged clothing when a teacher came in and said you ought not to be in here what were you doing? and Benny said showing her my press-ups and the teacher said they best leave and so they did Yehudit put her hand on his cheek and rubbed it gently and said of course we must if Marilyn can go like that we must take each given moment we have to fulfil our lives and he thought of Marilyn lying on her bed dead and the beauty still there but the spirit fled he leaned in and kissed Yehudit on the lips and she touched him on his thigh and their lips sealed and tongues engaged and moved and his hand felt along her thigh moving it up and down slowly and she closed her eyes and moved towards him and he felt upwards and upwards and touched and began to unbutton then voices came male voices from over the way by the pond-lake Yehudit called it- they broke apart looked around and sat up two men appeared with fishing gear over their shoulders one with a cap the other older balding pushing their way through the bushes on the other side engaged in conversation Yehudit and Benny made their way into the tall grass and lay flat looking through at the approaching men who stood opposite sorting out their fishing gear what they here for? Yehudit asked fishing Benny said I know that but why here why our lake? maybe they dont know its our lake Benny said they watched the two men unload and unpack their rods and seats and nets and then sit down typical Yehudit said now what? Benny reached through the grass and touched her hand we can touch and feel he said she felt his hand in her hand his fingers wrap around hers she moved through the grass and kissed his cheek can they see us? she asked shouldnt think so Benny said we are in the tall grass she turned him around to face her she breathed on him warm and **** and he kissed her and lay his hand on her leg then her high thigh she sighed and breathed warmly out I could have you now she said he lay back taking her in her eyes soft blue her parted lips her tongue risky Benny said what if they see movement of grass from over there? her hands began to unbutton his jeans and search within he stiffened looked at her lips her eyes he moved his hand moved upwards and felt her and closed his eyes cast it further a voice said maybe get something then another voice said do my best caught a good one here last week Yehudit held and rubbed Benny said shall we find some other place? Yehudit released and withdrew her hand why and where? too risky here cant focus he said she buttoned him up and lay on her back he lay beside her the sky was a bright blue birds flew overhead a dragonfly swept over the tall grass a butterfly swooped by voices again loud and deep nearly had one then be patient takes time the other replied Yehudit moved in the tall grass Benny watched as she took off her underwear and lay there got to be patient the man said she said softly Benny moved to her and next to her and felt her and unbuttoned and nearly there one mans voice said bit deeper the other said and laughed Yehudit sighed a shudder a movement an ease a bird flew off over the pond a blackbird sang got a bite a man said pull it slow now the other said Yehudits hands were on Bennys **** Bennys hands were holding her waist and bring it in now the man said steady steady Benny kissed her lips her cheek her eyes Yehudit saw birds in flight a woodpecker peck a duck quacked Benny opened his eyes and o a mouth and rode through a storm she lay there watching a rook in flight over head she was alive and Marilyn was dead.

Yochana passed the maths block
along the narrow path
onto the sports field
during lunch time recess

her friend Angela
was in the WC
sorting out
some girl problem

I was sitting on the grass
looking at some boys
play ball nearby

Yochana stood over me  
and said
can I sit here with you?

I looked up
sure why not
where's your girlfriend?

she's not my girlfriend
she's my best friend
she replied
and sat down next to me

I gazed at her hair
smooth and black
and brought back
into two bunches
and her glasses
were thin wire framed

do you smile?

she raised her
thin eyebrows

why? do you only
like girls who smile?

it helps

helps how?

makes them
seem friendlier

she attempted a smile
not successfully

I looked at
the football game

why aren't you playing?
she asked

I'm not much good
they're better off
without me

so there are things
you're not good at?

I nodded
and looked at her
yes but
some things I am
and smiled

she looked away
for a few moments

you have a good profile

she looked
back at me
do I?

yes quite refined
unlike some
of the girls in class
who're like peasant stock
in contrast

she smiled
unkind to them

but true
I said
sometimes truth
will out

she put her hands
in her lap
and looked past me
at the boys
and their ball

your eyes are like
two of my
favourite marbles

she looked back at me
are they?

I nodded
yes I keep them
with me
as my good luck charms

show me

I got out the marbles
from my trouser pocket
and showed them to her
in the palm
of my hand

can I hold them?

sure

so she took them
into her small
thin hand

they're warm

came from a warm place

yes they are
like my eyes' colour

she gave them
back to me
and as she did so
I held her hand briefly
nice hand
I said
and kissed it

she took it back
and looked at it
why'd you kiss my hand?

same reason
I kissed your cheek
the other week

others might
have seen and came up
with ideas

what ideas?

well that there's
something going on
between us

and isn't there?

she sat back
and looked
around her

not like
they might think
she said

and what might
they think?

things going on
between us

what kind of things?

just because
I like you
doesn't mean
we're doing things
she said
keeping her hands
out of reach

that's true
we're not
anyway here comes
your girlfriend Angela

she's not my girlfriend
she's a friend

she got up
and looked at me
and smiled
-she could smile
if she wanted to-

and walked off
and I studied her
narrow frame
the legs
the waist
the neat behind
and thanked God
I wasn't blind.

Lizbeth walked home from school in a mood passed shops without looking in the windows as she usually did walked past Mrs Hooley without her usual chat about her cat up the pathway to the cottage into the back door passed her mother in the kitchen who was preparing dinner barely taking note of her mother's words of welcome and criticism about her bedroom and the mess there and up the stairs to her room where she opened the door and closed it behind almost in one motion and throwing her school satchel to the floor lay down on her double bed and stared at the ceiling crossing her legs at the ankles how could he tell her the ****** queen about us in the church and the pew and wanting to have ***? What was he thinking wait until I see him next how could he? She fumed and uncrossed her legs and looked at the curtains moving in the slight wind that came through the open window bringing to mind the girl Jane confronting her in the girl's toilets at school at afternoon break and saying how could you tempt Benedict in a church of all places? Tempt him with what? Lizbeth had asked *** Jane had said blushing as she said the word as if it was too hot for her mouth to stay there too long what do you mean ***? Lizbeth had asked looking at the girl with her brown eyes peering and he dark hair tied back in a ponytail he said you tricked him into going to the church and tempted him with having *** on a pew Jane said standing stiff and if the words had temporarily frozen her Lizbeth had gazed past the girl hoping another girl would enter and end the conversation what's it to you? Lizbeth said did you want him first then? The girl Jane blushed more and looked away then walked out of the toilets tearful Lizbeth put her hands behind her head and looked at the room at the picture of Elvis pinned to the wall-much to her parents' disapproval- at the mirror of the tall boy where she could see herself laying there like another self in parallel world he'd seek out Benedict and have a word with him how could he let that ***** Jane know all the details about them and that day in the church and about the *** bit that was a bit low and what a waste of time it had been anyway all that way on their bikes and he wasn't a bit interested in the idea and she had been so wanting to so warmed up for it and wore her short skirt especially and o how she fumed that day on the way home on her bike it wasn't as if she slept with other boys in fact she hadn't had *** with anyone yet in fact she didn't want *** with just anyone she wanted to have *** the first time with him with Benedict and she was till a ****** still untouched still boiling over especially when she saw him at school or when she cycled to his parent's cottage in the hamlet a few miles away and all he wanted was to show her bird's eggs or nests or butterflies or dead animals bones she sat up on her bed and sighed she'd read the book on *** that the girl at school had lent her with its long words and vivid diagrams and photos she'd read it cover to cover and absorbed the diagrams and photos so well that she could bring them to mind when she felt the time was ripe she moved to the side of her bed and remembered the day she'd managed to get him into her room when her parents were out and still he wouldn't agree to *** even though her bed was there and ready and she had begun to undress before him and still he refused leaving her at boiling point and then her mother had returned early from the shops and well that was it the chance blown and having to pretend to her mother that she was just showing Benedict her record collection-not that she believed- she stood up and took off her school uniform before dinner standing in front of the mirror pretending Benedict was watching her from the bed behind her egging her saying get them off get them off but she knew he never would he'd look out the window or close his eyes and momentarily she stood there gazing at herself standing there in her small bar and underwear wishing he was there behind her on the bed and watching but he wasn't there just her teddy bear laying there disinterestedly gazing into space she took out a blouse from her chest of drawers and a skirt and put them on kicking her school uniform into a corner in a mood hoping he mother wasn't going moan at he rover dinner or her father yak on about his day at work and who he met and who did what and to whom she stood there and gazed at her red hair and few freckles and her eyes staring at her how could he say that to her of all people? That ****** queen? I could have slapped her one I should have done slapped her innocent stare off her ****** face but she liked him liked his hazel eyes that quiff of hair that stare that smile so Elvis like o to have him here to have him in my bed o to have it with him her mother called her for dinner her mother's voice breaking into her thoughts breaking up her desires and wishes like a brick through a window she sighed blew kiss to herself in the mirror and walked down the stairs in her mood wanting *** and Benedict not her mother's company or food.

John watched Elaine
get off
the school bus
with her sister

he looked to see
if she looked up
at him before
the bus went off

his insides were tight
wondering if
she would
not wanting her

to look away
or ignore him
and the fact
that not long before

she had looked over
from her side
of the bus
and they'd stared

at each other
and she had blushed
for some reason
and he had stared

wondering if
she would turn
and look again
but she didn't

and he kept
looking over
but she didn't
look back

the bus began
to drive away
and at the last moment
she looked up

and she stared at him
and he was sure
she began to smile
but he couldn't be sure

and then
she was gone
and hedgerows came
and fields and houses

and then
just fields
and hedges
and trees

and he looked
at his hands
in his lap
and tried not

to listened
to what Trevor
was saying
about football

and how he nearly
scored at lunch time
John tried to hold on
to her face

at that moment
and the maybe smile
he was sure
he'd seen

and the fields
passed by
all was flowing by
like a sea of green.

Yiska sees Benny
walking by
the tuck shop
in the corridor

she is with her friend
on their way
to Geography
with Mr P

wait
she says
I must talk
with Benny

and follows Benny
a few paces
then says
Benny

he turns
and sees her
where are you going?
she asks

science
he says
some nonsense
about gravity

and falling bodies
or such
wish our bodies
could fall

somewhere together
she says smiling
me too
he says

Yiska's friend
stood a few paces back
arms folded
a bored expression

on her face
what about lunch recess
can we meet?
she asks

sure why not
he replies
she lingers
feeling a kiss

coming on
her body bubbling
where abouts?
she asks

meet by
the maths block
quieter there
at lunch time

she nods
senses he might
go soon
and grabs

his arm
and pulls him
towards her
and kisses him

on the lips
Benny holds her briefly
feels her waist
then they part

the friend over the way
looks down
at the floor
see you later

she says  
he nods
and walks off
in a hurry

to his next class
she watches him go
her body alive
her nerves aglow.

Jane passed the church, walked past the gravestones of those long dead, smelt the scent of flowers, heard the songs of birds in nearby hedgerows and trees. Benedict said to meet her there the day before while leaving the school van, about midday he had said. She had cycled from the vicarage where she lived with her parents, down through the narrow lanes, passed the water tower by the farm, riding carefully past the cottage where Benedict lived with his parents and siblings, on through narrow lanes until she had reached the church. She was happy to be meeting him again, from the time she had awoken that morning she felt a sense of excitement at seeing him, being in his company. Her mother had asked where she was going and she said to meet Benedict at the church on the other side of the hamlet. Her mother smiled; she liked Benedict, he was trustworthy, unlike some of the boys round about whom she would have felt uneasy about Jane meeting...Benedict sat in the churchyard in the corner away from the nearest grave, where the name and date had worn away over the years until just a few words remained visible. He looked around him, studied the shapes and size of the gravestones, many had become dilapidated over the years, but it was peaceful and he liked it being amongst the dead sensing the feeling of being beyond the here and now. He waited for Jane to come. He had asked her to meet him there the day before. She said she would. He looked forward to seeing her, having her  near him, seeing her eyes looking at him, her dark hair, brown eyes, that shy smile...Jane saw Benedict sitting on the grass in the corner, he was looking at the gravestones, his hands around his knees. He was in blue jeans and white shirt and black shoes. She passed a few graves when he looked up and saw her. A thrill of excitement went through her, her stomach churned, her heart beat fast...There she was, standing not far away, Benedict stood up from the grass and went to her and she smiled at him. Not late am I? she asked, putting a hand out to touch his. No, he said, just on time, looking at the watch on his wrist, feeling her hand touch his, buzzing his nerves with her touch...Jane sensed her tongue becoming stuck in her mouth; her eyes scanned him taking in his eyes, hazel bright, his brown hair with that quiff that she loved, that smile so warm and yet inviting. Her hand was in his, warm, soft, his thumb rubbing her skin...Benedict felt alive; felt so here and now that his heart beat so that it seemed it would crash through his chest. How are you? He asked, rubbing her hand, not wanting to let it go, but not wanting to hold it too long. I'm all right, she said shyly, wanting his hand to stay there, to feel him near her, listening to his every word...Jane looked around at the churchyard, saw the flowers on some of the graves, some dying of neglect, some fresh planted. Shall we look in the church? She said, see  the interior? Yes, he said, why not, not seen inside for ages(although he had a few weeks before when the girl Lizbeth had taken him there and had tried to ****** him inside on one of the pews and he had left and declined)...Jane looked at him, seeking to see if he mentioned the girl Lizbeth whom Jane had heard had taken Benedict there a few weeks before. She trusted him, but needed him to tell her about the girl from their school, thirteen like them, but more forward, more dangerous. I heard you were here with Lizbeth a few weeks ago, Jane said, not wanting him to be unaware that she knew, but wanting him to be honest with her...Benedict blushed and looked at her, releasing her hand reluctantly. Yes, he said, she took me here, or rather we came here.  He didn't know what to say, but he couldn't lie, not keep things back. She came to the cottage and asked me to bring her here because she said she was interested in the architectural aspects of the church, but she just wanted to do things, he said looking at the nearest gravestone, feeling unsettled. Do things? Jane asked, looking at him, seeing his blush still there, wondering what he had done. She wanted me to have *** with her on a pew in the church, he said, but that was after we were in the church and she tricked me...Jane caught her breath, brought her hands together in front of her, trying to make sense of what he was saying. *** with her on a pew? She said, the words soft almost choking her. You didn't did you? She asked, not believing she was asking him. No, of course not, I would never have come here with her had I known that was what she was after, he said, gazing at Jane, unsure of her reaction. She felt her heart beating fast in her breast, her mind was becoming out on a limb. How could she think you would? She asked, not sure what to say or asked any more...Benedict felt the world becoming almost too big for him. He wanted to take Jane and say it hadn't been for real that he had been tricked, that he wanted to be near her not Lizbeth. I don't know, Benedict said, I never encouraged her, thought she was interested in the church, but inside she changed and said we could have *** on one of those pews. Jane sensed an unease enter. And what happened then? She asked, looking at him shyly. Nothing, I left the church and she followed and I cycled back home and she followed me, but them rode off, he said, feeling undone, feeling as if the ground was about to swallow him up...Tears were rising to her eyes, she could sense them. Did you kiss her? She asked, wanting to know, yet not wanting to know. No, nothing at all, he said shaking his head, I wanted none of that. She bit her lower lip, tried to hold back the tears in her eyes. She sensed he hadn't, but she needed to be sure. She had heard about the girl at school, but had he fallen for her charms such as they may have been? Why did she want to have *** with you? She asked, blushing at the word *** in her own mouth. No idea, he said, seems to have this fixation with me and ***. She sensed the tears falling from her eyes and on her cheeks. She wiped them off with the back of her hand. Can I trust you? She asked, the tears making her throat feel sore. Yes, he said, I’d never betray you, never. Not with her or anyone, he added, feeling his world emptying like a fish thrown on dry land. She put a hand on his arm, squeezed it, drew him to her and he embraced her uncertain if it was for real or just a gesture. I trust you, she said, wanting him to hold her close to him, sensing her tears rub on his shoulder, dampening his shirt...Benedict held her tight, not wanting her to go from him, not wanting to lose even this one moment in her closeness. He smelt that naturalness about her, an apple scent, fresh air, purity like new snow, blossoms...She kissed his cheek; lips to skin, not pressured, but there wanting to express how she felt, how her heart felt, not lust like the Lizbeth girl, but love, yes, love for him...Benedict sensed her lips kiss his cheek, warm, soft. He held her tight, feeling her body close to his, sensing her soft ******* against his chest as he held her...Jane put a hand behind his head, drew him closer, her lips kissing his ear, his lobe, his cheek again, then she pulled away a little to look at him. I should not have doubted you or your what you would do or not do, she said softly, her eyes watery, her cheeks damp. I heard about her and her visit to you, but I wasn't sure if it was true or not, but it doesn't matter now, because I trust you, she said...Benedict held her as near as he dare, not wanting her to go from his hold. I would never hurt you. I didn't know what she was after. Jane put a finger on his lips. Hush, she said softly. Let us not give her the benefit of thinking she has undone us. He felt his heart pounding in his chest as if someone was punching him from the inside...Jane turned his head towards her and kissed him on the lips. He kissed her, too, his lips pressing against hers. She put her arms around his waist and hugged him as she had never hugged anyone before, her lips sealing him from breath, from leaving her, from going away...Benedict sensed her body so close now that his heart seemed to beat with hers in a duet of thumping inside. His lips felt as if welded to hers, wet and warm and soft and he sensed himself filling with tears, tears he'd not shown or felt before to this degree...Jane took his hand and they walked past the gravestones into the church and sat in a side pew next to each other. His hand was in hers; he rubbed his thumb against her skin, rubbed it gently. She squeezed his hand, turned and kissed him, then sat back and stared ahead. God's house, she said, she should never had thought you would do anything like that here, not in here...Benedict said, not anywhere with her, certainly not here. He recalled that day here with Lizbeth, how she had suggested they have *** on a pew and he taken aback by such a thing and how she thought it quite possible...Us, Jane said, us and not her, not anything she thought possible. He nodded and looked at the altar where a brass cross stood alone. Do you love me? She asked. He turned and gazed at her, his eyes searching each aspect of her features. Yes, I do, he said, as much as its possible to love. She smiled shyly, wiping tears from her damp cheeks. I love you, too, she said... Benedict closed his eyes. He wanted to capture her and her words and that moment for ever in his mind. He wanted being here with her now to over brush the image of Lizbeth here with him those weeks before, to have that image and words of Jane captured in his mind like a camera snapping it all and holding it in frame and picture for evermore... Jane breathed in and out slowly. He had closed his eyes. His hand was still in hers. His pulse pulsed with hers, a gentle beat, a soft thump, a mixture of one becoming two, an uncertainty going, a truth and love becoming true.

I lie on my back
on the grass
my hands behind
my head

Yehudit is standing
by the lake
-her term
for the pond-
looking over
the water's skin
at the ducks
and dragonflies
skimming the water
and flying off and up

I watch her
standing there
the sun shining down
through the branches
of trees overhead
bird song

I like it here
she says
so peaceful

I take in
her white
and blue flowery dress
the bare legs
the sandalled feet
her hands
behind her back
her hair tied
at the back
by a blue ribbon

do you
like it here?
she asks

yes I like it
in fact I like it
most places

she turns
and looks at me
I mean the scenery
she says smiling

I look at her eyes
the blueness
the flush of cheeks
the smile

how often
do you think
of *** Benny?
she says

pretty much
most of the time
I reply
with a twinkle
in my eye

thought so
she says
shaking her head
and turning away
to gaze at the scene
once more

she thinking
who knows what
but I thinking
of the kissing
and heavy petting
of 10 minutes
before.

Breakfast time
a school day
Lizbeth sits

poking at
her breakfast
scrambled egg

and sausage
tomato
her parents

sit there too
her mother
looks at her

what is up
with you now?
the mother

asks Lizbeth
nothing's up
Lizbeth says

poking egg
with a fork
I know you

my young girl
you're moody
and poking

at your food
Lizbeth stares
at the lips

moving of
her mother
more moaning

she muses
it's a boy
I expect

her father
interjects
what's a boy?

Mother asks
her bad moods
Father says-

unless he
muses it's
genetics

and she's got
her mother's
moody genes-

what boy's this
Lizbeth dear?
Mother asks

-Lizbeth thinks
of the boy
Benedict

and how she's
attempted
to have hot

*** with him
umpteenth times
without one

successful
episode-
not a boy

Lizbeth says
forking in
scrambled egg

just Monday
and the blues
and I'm on

on what Liz?
Father asks
looking out

over his
newspaper-
on the rag

Auntie's come
periods
bleeding lots

she muses-
Lizbeth stares
at Father

in that way
that she has
and he says

o I see
and looks back
at the big

newspaper
something more
Mother says

more than that
you've not got
pregnant

with a boy
have you Liz?
No I've not

Lizbeth storms
spitting egg
throwing down

her steel fork
on the plate
I've just said

that I'm on
and would I
just have ***

just like that
without you
knowing all

before me?
what about
that Benny

you talk of
he's a boy?
Mother says

Lizbeth sighs
I am still
a ******

innocent
of all crimes
she utters

just moody
Father says
like most girls

Lizbeth picks
up her fork
and eats more

scrambled egg
and thinks of
Benedict

and how she
tried to get
him to have

*** with her
on her bed
some weeks back

but he said
not like this
not just now

we're too young
but Mother
knows there's more

than just moods
and studies
the young girl

as she eats
wondering
if Liz has

with that boy
signs are there
she muses

but deep down
the mother
refuses

to accept
such could be
and sips tea

Lizbeth stares
at her plate
thinks of ***

with Benny
when it comes
if it comes

and what place
it might be
lifts her cup

and sips tea.

And she wants to know
how I stuck that time
in London
and not the country

and why did I
not want to be
in the countryside
and it is a sunny day

and clouds are so white
it seems as if an artist
has painted them
and as she speaks

I sense her there
beside me
and she talks
about how her father

manages the church
and how she first
remembered the walk
through snow

when she was young
and how her father
carried her
on his shoulders

and she saw
her first sparrowhawk
and how grand
and powerful it seemed

above them
and I want to be near her
to be able to breath
her in as we walk

and maybe hold
her hand
but I can't
bring myself

to reach out
unless she
does so first
not wanting to seem

presumptuous
or too forward  
and we walk
down the lane

beside my parent's cottage
and talk of London
and how there were
street lamps

and the trains moving
over the railway bridge
all night and coal trucks
being shunted

all the time night
and day
and the dust
of the coal

gets everywhere
but one doesn't notice
and she looks at me
and I want to swim

in her eyes
and she says glad
you're here now
and we are here together

and her hand
touches mine
and I want it
to be there always

her hand in mine
and know it won't
but wish it so
and wish I could

carry her
on my shoulders
through knee deep
white snow.

Without God we cannot and without us God will not, Sister Bonaventure, the Italian  said, in R.E  at the school, where Fay sat looking at the nun's plump features and a second chin that lay on the nun's wimple. Cannot what? a girl said from beside Fay, a thin girl whose hand was raised above her head. Others stared in Fay's direction as did the nun. What do you think it means, Gloria? the nun asked, her dark eyes peering at the girl. The girl shrugged her shoulders. Salvezza, the nun said, salvation. Fay took the word and tongued it in her mouth like a boiled sweet. Salvezza. The other girls in the class sat mute; some looked at each and smiled either out of indifference or bewilderment, but Fay sat straight-faced, the words in her mouth, both Italian and English. Salvation? A girl asked, pushing her luck, seeing the nun's features harden like cement on a hot day. To be saved, the nun said, saved from damnation. The girls all Catholic and bought up from the cradle knew this, but it was a hot day and they had lost interest as soon as Sister Bonaventure had entered the class with the ease of a hippo into a muddy swamp. But Fay took the words and packed them away inside her head to **** upon in her nightly hours when she failed to sleep. After school, walking along St George's Road, she saw Benedict standing by the subway waiting for her. He stood with hands in his pockets, his school tie untied, hanging loose, his shirt collar unbuttoned. She smiled when she saw him; her stomach did a somersault; her eyes moved over him like hawks seeking prey. He smiled like Elvis, which he had mastered by studying the photograph in the paper and had cut it out and sellotaped it to his wall. Didn't know you were going to meet me, Fay said, thought you said you were busy. Benedict smiled. Wanted to surprise you, he said. Did you run home from school to get here by this time? No, got the bus, he said. She touched his arm with her thin fingers, felt the cloth of his school blazer. He looked at her; took in her fair hair, straight, but pinned at the sides with hair slides; at her eyes that were as pure as silk; at her features that he wanted to capture in his mind so he could conjure up in bed at night when he found it hard to dream about her. She looked past him, making sure her father-who didn't like Benedict- wasn't around; making sure that her father wasn't amongst the crowd across the way or in a passing bus. They walked back towards the flats together, side by side, hands not touching, but close, near touching. She told him of her day at school, about the Italian nun and the words that she had captured that day in R.E lesson. Salvation? he said, taking the word and moving it around his head and mouth like a puzzle to be solved. Sounds like something you put on if you've got a sore spot, he said. She smiled. It means saving our souls from sin and the consequences of sin, she said. They walked down the subway side by side, the words echoing along the walls. He looked at her as they walked, his hand near touching hers. Sins? What are they when they're at home? he asked, probably knowing the answer, but wanting her to say. Violation of God's will, she said. Violating our relationship with God, she added. He allowed his knuckles to brush against hers gently, letting her words float about his ears. Violate God's will? He said. She nodded. Defy, God's will, she said. Mm-mm, Benedict said, got you. Whether he had or not, Fay had no idea, she sensed his knuckles brush against hers, gentle, soft, skin on skin. They came out into the late afternoon sunlight, on to the New Kent Road, passed the Trocadero cinema, their hands brushing close. Changing the subject, before Fay could venture further into the words, he said, do you anything about periods? She stopped by the entrance to the cinema and gazed at him. Periods of what? History? Geographical times of changes? She said. No idea, a boy at school was talking about it, said his big sister was having her periods and was a dragon when she was, Benedict said, gazing past, Fay, at the photographs in the framed areas inside the cinema walls. She blushed, looked at the photographs, too. How old are you, Benny? She said. Same as you, twelve, he replied, taking in the photo of a cowboy, at how the cowboy had his guns set in his holster. And you don't know? she said, shyly, looking at him, blushing. He tried to copy the cowboy's stance ready to draw his imaginary gun from imaginary holster. No idea, he said, looking at her briefly before gazing at another photo. What do you learn in biology? she asked. O usual ******* about plants and sunlight and butterflies and bees and so on, he said. About butterflies or birds, then? he said, taking in the cowboy's stance again. Yes, she said quickly, not wanting to elaborate further.  They walked on passed the cinema and the used car area and walked over the bomb site towards Meadow Row. So what's the connection between this kid's sister and ****** birds or butterflies and periods? Benedict asked. She shrugged and smiled. Ask your mum, she said, she might know. He smiled, leaned down, picked up a few stones from the bomb site for ammunition for his catapult later, guess so, he added, taking in her blushing features. They paused half way across the bomb site and stared at the the coal wharf where a few stragglers of coal men loaded up the lorries and wagons again for last bit of business. He wanted to kiss her, but didn't want to take the liberty of just plunging his lips on her cheek as he'd seen them do in the cowboy films. She watched the coal men at work. She sensed him beside her, his closeness, his hand brushing against hers, skin on skin, flesh touching flesh, but she didn't want her father to see her touching Benedict's hand, because he'd go mad at her. I  want you to focus on your school work and what the nuns tell you about matters, not gallivanting with the likes of him, he said last time he saw her with Benedict, even though they lived in the same blocks of flats, he downstairs and she upstairs. Likes of him? What did that mean? She mused, looking away from the coal men and taking in Benedict beside her. God knows what her father would say if she kissed Benedict and he saw them. A few years ago he would have spanked her, but nowadays he just threatens her with it. Benedict turned and looked at her. Are you coming to the cinema for Saturday's matinee? Don't know; depends, she said. Depends on what? he asked. My dad and what he's up to and if he'll let me, she said. She paused, looked past Benedict to see if her father might be around. What's wrong with Saturday matinee? Benedict asked. She looked at him. Daddy thinks it's sinful to stare at those kind of films, although he did take us to see the Ten Commandments with Yul Bryner and Charlton Heston  a few years ago, she said. But you've been with me before, Benedict said. I know but only if Daddy's away on business or is away on religious retreat. Benedict raised his eyebrows and pulled a face and pouted his lips. She smiled. See what I can do, she said, looking over at Meadow Row making sure her father wasn't in sight. He wanted to kiss her, but didn't want just to plunge at her as he'd seen them do at the cinema, but what to do? She gazed at him, her body tingling for reasons she couldn't fathom. Best get home I suppose, she said, in case Daddy's there wondering where I've got to. They walked on across the bomb site slowly. Could I? He asked, pausing by the wall of  bombed out house. Could you what? Fay asked. Benedict looked at her. Kiss your cheek? She blushed and looked around her then back at Benedict. Why would you want to kiss my cheek? She asked. I've seen cowboys do it to women in films I just wondered what it was like, he said. Is that all? she said. All what? He said. That reason? She said. No, he said, looking past at the coal wharf, I like you a lot, wanted to show you how by kissing you. She felt out on a limb, beyond her comfort zone, yet something about it seemed satisfying, the gesture, the idea, the reason he wanted to kiss at all. She knew she was blushing, knew that her body was reacting in away unknown to her before. She looked across at Meadow Row, at the people passing over the way. Do I dare? She asked herself. What if Daddy sees? Not here, she said, maybe on the staircase of the flats if no one is around. He nodded, looked at her, touched her right hand, warm, silky soft. He wasn't sure of himself as he usually was; felt as if he were in bandit country and bad cowboys were at large. They walked on down Meadow Row, passed the public house with doors open and the smell of beer and a piano playing out of tune, passed houses and the crossed over by the corner leading into Rockingham Street. Their hands were apart from each other just in case. Her father in her case and other boys seeing, in his case, thinking he was breaking the schoolboy code into cissiness. They walked up the ***** and into the Square and walked towards the block of flats where they lived. She talked about Sister Bonaventure and sin and he talked about the boy's sister's period problem whatever it was. Half way up the second staircase landing they paused. Now? He asked. She looked up the stairs then down. Ok, she said softly. He kissed her cheek, damp, soft. She looked at him, then for reasons she didn't know she drew him to her and kissed his lips, then let him go. What happened to her or him they didn't understand just felt the inner glow.

And we're in line
for school dinner
and the trestles
have been set up

for the purpose
and Fay
is in front of me
in the line up

and I smell
a scent flower like
fresh and rewarding
after sitting

next to Dennis
most of the morning
in class
her hair is fair

and almost blonde
and down
to her shoulders
there are two

yellow ribbons
holding the hair
in bunches
I study

I sniff gently
not loudly
not taking
a pig's sniff

but just
an intake of breath
of a sniff
and she moves

along the line
and I move
after her
and her hands

are white
and the fingers delicate
and the nails
filed and neat

and she's shy
and turns and says
can we talk
after dinner?

sure we can
I say
taking in her
blue eyes

and the lips
and God I think
how is it
that my

11 year old
brain and eyes
are feasting on
her 11year old being

as such
I don't know
no more than I know
why flowers die

then bulbs come
or why my
great grandmother
dies and that's it

and she turns back
to the dinner lady
and the woman says
two ***** of potato

or one?
peas? carrots?
she nods her head
and says

one ball please
and then moves on
with her plate
and I face

the woman and say
all that I can have
and she looks at me
with her dark eyes
and sighs.

It's a fish
for God's sake
Anne said

seeing the
excitement
from the kids

having found
a dead fish
on the beach

and the nun
with them said
we could have

it for tea
or supper
there were cheers

from the kids
walking back
to the home

listen Kid
Anne said
if they think

I'm eating
that dead fish
they can go

**** themselves
the Kid looked
at the fish

being held
by its tail
by the nun

the dead eyes
staring out
don't eat it

Anne said
don't like it
swinging there

the dead eyes
the Kid said
pushing up

the pathway
the wheelchair
with Anne

inside it
him gazing
at her leg

and the gap
beside it
where her lost

leg had been
and the stump
lying there

visible
where her skirt
had risen

don't eat it
that dead fish
Anne said

no I won't
the Kid said
looking past

Anne's head
at the fish
swinging there

cold and dead.

Here Kid take this what is it? whats it look like? its a prayer book thing yes so take it and hide it under your jumper why? just hide the **** thing so Benedict hides the  black book with red ends under his jumper and follows Anne into the grounds out of the French windows Anne crutches herself across the grass and makes towards the round white table and chairs and plonks herself down in a chair tossing her crutches aside Benedict sits down in the next chair looking back towards the nursing home do you think we were seen? seen doing what Kid? walking across the grass no doubt liberating Sister Dumb-arses prayer book no Anne says Benedict turns around and stares at her dont keep looking around Kid or the penguins will guess youve been up to no good me been up to no good it was your idea to take the prayer book but youve got it Kid not me but you said take it and you did well done Kid Anne says smiling she rubs her leg stump and pulls the blue skirt down further what do we do now? Benedict asks looking at Anne tempted to turn around and look behind him sit tight Kid sit tight but I cant hide the book under my jumper all day he says pass it under the table to me so he passes the prayerbook to Anne under the white table and she opens it in her lap he looks at her his stomach tightening guess whose it is? Anne asks he shrugs dont know its only Sister Bridgets how do you know? has it got her name in it? no they dont own personal property its just that it has this prayer card in it with an image of St Bridget on one side and a prayer on the other and on the top shes scrawled Sr Bridget in her bird-**** hand writing God shell go ape he says looking round at the nursing home what do we do? shush Kid what do want them to know weve got it? he stares at the building imagines the nun galloping across the lawn towards them her black robes billowing behind her like Batman turn round Kid youll look suspicious he looks round and stares at her sitting in the chair as if butter wouldnt melt in her mouth on a hot day where are you going to put it? he asks out of the sight of their eyes she says where though? she pulls up her blue skirt and tucks the black prayer book in her navy blue underwear and pulls down the skirt and brushes out the any signs you cant keep it there he says why not my knickers she says are they going to search me there? she says now just go get my wheelchair and  we can go visit the sea out the back gate he sighs and wanders back towards the home trudging across the lawn leaving Anne sitting in the chair like some royal queen on her throne she lifts up her skirt and adjusts the book more securely just as well I wore the passion killers Mum bought me she says to herself and lets down the skirt again and sits staring towards the home as she sits a few of the kids come out and make their way to the swings and slide they know her and avoid her like a plague a nun comes out too Anne stares at her its Sister Lucy a young one green as grass more ****** that the Blessed ****** herself Anne says under breath the nun walks towards Anne her hands inside her black habit how are we today Anne? the nun asks smiling my ****** leg aches Anne says o dear the nun says looking at Annes leg visible under the table have you seen Sister Paul about some pain killers? no not yet Anne says anyway its not this leg its the one not there my stump leg o I see Sister Luke says staring at the unseen stump beneath the blue skirt I could pray for your leg if you would like me to the nun says might help Anne says putting on her pious pose its hurts so much I feel like crying she allows tears to dribble out of her eyes(shes an expert of conjuring tears out of her eyes) o my dear child the nun says coming around the table and placing a hand around Annes shoulders Ill ask Sister Paul about some tablets the nun says thank you Anne whimpers feeling the prayer book move slightly as she moves in the chair she tries to adjust it with her hand to a more secure position Benedict comes across the lawn pushing the wheelchair he sees the nun and his eyes enlarge and he senses danger have they suspected Anne already about the missing prayer book? he wheels the chair behind Anne the nun looks at him arent you a good boy she says yes hes my best friend Anne says smiling through the glassy eyes the nun smiles well I best get back Ill see Sister Paul about those pills the nun says and walks off towards the home that was close Benedict say she didnt mention the prayer book Anne says she just came about me and the ****** leg and offering prayers o I see he says gazing at the stump area thinking about the stump of her leg hes seen many times are you going gawk at my stump all day or are you going to help get in the ****** wheelchair? o right yes he says and helps her get from the chair and into the wheelchair holding it steady at the back make sure the prayer book doesnt slip out of my knickers Kid she says as she rises from the chair and plonks into the wheelchair she moves the book to a more comfortable position and pulls her skirt down pass her knee just as they were about to move away Sister Bridget comes across the lawn towards them like a rhino on heat hang on Kid here comes the penguin wait wait the nun says raising a hand Benedict pauses pushing the wheelchair and stares at the approaching nun keep cool Kid Anne says under her breath act innocent as the Pope at a nudist colony Benedict feels himself perspire the nun stands in front of Anne in the wheelchair a prayer book has gone missing the nun says gazing at Anne has it? Anne says in an innocent tone yes it was taken from the Common Room shall we help look for it? Anne asks have you seen it? the nun asks no not that I know of whats it look like? Anne asks as if butter wouldnt melt a prayer book is what it looks like the nun says eyeing Anne with her suspicious eyes black cover with red ends no cant say I have Anne says Benedict looks away at the trees behind of them at the avenue between them and you Benedict have you seen it? the nun asks staring at him her eyes over him like maggots he shudders no sister not seen it at all he hates lying to  a nun he feels as if she looks into his soul and at the minor sins lurking there like naughty children then the nun looks down in Annes lap gazes at the outline of the leg stump not hiding it are we? the nun says hiding what? Anne says my stump? no I tried hiding it but its always there each morning I wake up the nun screws up her eyes and peers at them both no I mean the book where is it? no idea Anne says Benedict looks down at Annes lap where have you hidden it? the nun says havent seen it Anne says one of the children says she saw you take it the nun says me? Anne says you cant take the word of child I believe what the child tells me Benedict looks at the outline of the leg stump the child says you have it about your person she saw you from the upper bedroom window the nun says sternly must be mistaken must have seen me rub my stump they always watch me rubbing it so nosey the nun sighs and gazes at Annes lap and at the stumps outline show me your leg stump? the nun says hands on her hips Anne pulls up her skirt to reveal the stump Benedict looks too wondering if the book outline could be seen under the knickers the nun looks away where have you put it? put what? the book the prayer book the nun says I havent seen it Anne says as innocent as she can muster innocence lies will get you to Hell the nun says and walks off across the grass like a bad tempered bear what now? Benedict says Anne takes the book out of her knickers and hands it to him warm and scented what do I do with it? he asks shove it on that other chair under the table and were off to the beach so he puts the book under the table and pushes Anne off in the chair off out of reach.

Hes gone. I heard the door go. Ingrid relaxes, her shoulders unwind, the nerves untense. Just wait; he may return. She waits, listens. He does that sometimes; returns and stands looking at me as if he cant decide about me. No sounds of him. Mum in the kitchen; pots and pans; water running, but not him. Ingrid stares behind her in case her father has sneaked in without her hearing him. No one. She bites her lower lip. That time shed thought hed gone and she turned and he was there and he walloped her one about the head saying she was looking at him evil eyed. She looks at the table; at her breakfast bowl and cereal. He would deny her even that some mornings. Been too naughty hed say and made Mum take it out and hed sit there eyeing her and if he thought she was making faces hed slap her leg. Hes gone. Relax. She begins to eat her cereal. Spoons it in slowly, just in case he comes in suddenly out of nowhere and whack and shed choke. Relax. Her mother in the kitchen washing up. Spoons in more cereal. She thinks of that time shed taken a biscuit from the jar and he said she was a thief and whacked her hard and made a big mark on her. Benny noticed. Benny knows. Her father hates Benny. Youre not to see that Benedict kid, her father said, if I see you with him youre for it. She sees him still. Were the same age, in the same class at school. Nine years old. She mouths in more cereal. Licks the spoon after. Looks at the photograph on the sideboard. Black and white. Five of them. Back then. Her father is at the back grim  as death, black suit and tie, white shirt. Mums next to him wide eyed and pale as death. That grey dress. Her big brother Tom at the front. Smiling. Gone now after that big argument with Dad last week. Sylvia my big sister sitting next to Tom. Gone last year with that Spiv. And me at the end glasses and buck teeth even then. A bang at the door. Whos that? Mumll go. Listens. Puts her spoon down. Bites her lip. Blinks. Maybe hes back forgot his keys. Blame me. Last time he did he blamed me. Said I hid them. Voices at the door. Not him then. She relaxes. Picks up the spoon. Eats a small mouthful. Nervous. Always am. Footsteps coming. Is it him? She puts down the spoon and stares at the doorway. Mum. Standing there a cigarette in her mouth; eyes ******* up against the smoke. That Benny boys here at the door. Benny? Here? Good job your fathers not here or thered be hell to pay, the mother says. What does he want? Says he wants to take you out. Ingrid looks at her bowl, fingers with the spoon. Can he come in a minute? Not good idea, what if your father returns unexpectedly? Just a few minutes while I eat my breakfast? The mother sighs. Have to be ****** quick in case your dad comes back for some reason. Then well both be for it. The mother goes out and disappears. Voices. The door closing. She hates the sound of the door closing. It usually means hes home. If hes singing or humming it means all is well, but if hes quiet and sullen then Im for it or sometimes Mum gets it first and me after. That sound. Door closing. She stares at the doorway. Benny appears smiling. His hair with the quiff; the hazel eyes. Coming out? He asks. Where are you going? He sits on the settee, looks around the room. Thought wed go to see a bit of art. Art? What paintings and that? He looks at the her. Yes, National Gallery. Costs nothing. She picks up her spoon and eats cereal, looking at him, listening for the door. How do we get there? Bus to Trafalgar Square. How much is the fare there? She asks. Not much for kids. He looks at the photograph on the sideboard. See your old man is as grim as ever. She licks the spoon for the last bits of cereal. She can hear her mother banging about in the kitchen. Will she tell Dad when he gets home? Hard to say. Well, are you coming? Benny asks, looking at the fireplace. You shouldnt have come here; my dad might have been here still. I saw the old ****** go, Benny says, watched him walk through the Square, Benny says with that grin of his. He might have come back, she says, putting down the spoon. Then what? Who knows? Benny says unconcerned. She gets up and walks towards him. He would have hurt me for you being here. He hurts you anyway. She feels uneasy. The bruise on her thigh is still there just under her dress. Ill ask Mum if I can go. He nods and smiles. If only she could smile like that. If only. Ill ask her. He looks at her go. She finds her mother sorting out washing for the copper. Can I go out with Benny? He still here? Ingrid nods. Yes. Where? See paintings. Where? National Gallery. Too far. Not far, Benny says, standing behind Ingrid at the door. Bus ride away. You shouldnt come here, the mother says. Not welcoming, Benny says. Not meant to be, the mother says. Ingrid bites her lip. Her stomach tightens. What shall I say? Will she tell? Her mother stare stares at her. On your head be it; I dont want to know. The mother turns away, sorts more washing. Got to go to toilet, Ingrid says. Ok, Benny says, Ill wait. Ingrid goes off to the toilet; locks the door. Benny stands by the door staring at the mother. Ingrid sits down. Her stomach churns. She listens for voices. Nothing. What if Dad comes back? She waits.  The bruise on her thigh is blue and black.

The sun's out
and we sit
on some stones

or old bricks
left standing
from bombed out

old houses
on bomb sites
on the right

going up
Meadow Row
I'm sitting

sharpening
my penknife
on a stone

Ingrid sits
watching me
or passed me

at coal men
loading trucks
with black sacks

with black coal
I spit phlegm
on the stone

and sharpen
the knife blade
my uncle

shows me things
Ingrid says
things he's made

out of wood
are they good?
I think so

and he said
he'll show me
to make things

at his place
I put down
the blunt stone

and fold up
the sharp knife
and will you?

I ask her
gazing at
her pale face

with slightly
protruding teeth
I don't know

she replies
this uncle
is he that

one you said
that does things
secret things?

she looks off
looks past me
at bombed out

house ruins
and blushes
nods her head

don't go there
not alone
I tell her

mustn't tell
she whispers
I won't go

on my own
I promise
she tells me

we get up
and walk off
the bomb site

off to get
2 lollies
at Baldy's

grocer's shop
and maybe
4 Blackjacks

sticky sweets
1 farthing
for each one

hot sunshine
bright blue sky
big hot sun.

Lydia
stops me from
thumping Hem

even though
he'd bruised her
earlier

that morning
on her arm
let it go

she tells me
I've seen Hem
in the Square

sneaking back
like some fox
having been

after hens
we're both 9
Hem's older

but skinny
I watch him
beneath us

looking down
from the third
balcony

of the flats
where I live
her thin arm

loops through mine
to hold me
ain't worth it

she tells me
but she knows
I'll have him

at some time
hound him down
like the fox

that he is
one morning
while she sleeps

in her bed
and I'm up
looking out

from my high
balcony
like a hawk

for its prey
I'll get him
I tell her

smiling soft
on a day
in my way.

After all that time
There is a sense of triteness in the air,

With no care for observation
Beyond the norm;

No desire for dreams to storm
Sombre sleep. No consolation

Needed for inaction,
No satisfaction sought because

None desired, beyond the satisfactory.
No temptation tried or if tasted

No tainted with trying
Beyond the trite.

After all that time
There is a sense of death in the air.

Enid sips
her share of
the Tizer

as I share
the fruit buns
between us

it's Easter
off from school
sitting down

on the grass
by Bank's House
with her palm

she slowly
wipes the top
off of the

big Tizer
drink bottle
and hands it

back to me
do you get
Easter eggs?

she asks me
one or two
I reply

I take a
big mouthful
of Tizer

she nibbles
her fruit bun
do you get

Easter eggs?
I ask her
it depends

if I'm good
my dad says
she replies

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

try to be
but then he
my daddy

says I've not
Enid says
I hand her

the Tizer
having wiped
the bottle

your old man's
a pig head
Enid snorts

and Tizer
rises up
her small nose

I smile then
and hand her
my hanky

a clean one
fresh laundered
not funny

she tells me
me choking
she wipes the

Tizer from
her small nose
as I pat

her thin back
and pick off
bits of bun

exploded
on my arm
want more drink?

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

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

Yes
I said
Mum said to ask you  

her gran looked at me
then at Janice

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

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

take a seat
for a moment Benedict
Gran said

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

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

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

how much
would it cost?
her gran asked

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

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

when are you going?
she asked

Sunday week
I said

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

after church?
Gran asked

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

who's going
with you?
her gran asked

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

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

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

o good
Janice said

I smiled and said
I'll tell Mum
your answer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

of your body
and it goes round
continuously around
your waist

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

she stands
by the side
of the shop
looking up towards

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Battered Betty
and an arm
coming off
and how her dad

managed to
fix it again
but it was
back to front

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

and she's
at home resting
Helen says
resting after

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

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

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

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

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

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

still talking
about her doll
and the arm
and one eye

I watch the screen
not wanting to know.

Liz put the plate
on the table.

I watched.

First day, new job.

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

Take turns,
yer idjits,
she said.

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

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

Not so much
fun though,
she replied.

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

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

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

Is there nothing else?
I asked.

Later,
she said,
give it to
them later.

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

Think you'll
like the job?
Liz asked.

I shrugged
my shoulders.

Don't know.

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

Hours past.

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

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

who?
I ask her

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

where?

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

I eye the woman
standing there
she smiled at me?

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

no I was looking
at the dart players
I say

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

I look away
from the woman
and stare at Netanya

never seen her
before in my life
I say

she stares
back at me
her eyes boiling blue

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

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

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

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

very encouraging
I say
lighting up
a cigarette

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

I'm not familiar
I say
maybe you are

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

people stare at us
from around the bar

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

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

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

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

Dalya sits
in some bar
beside me

in Oslo
she sipping
a cool beer

me likewise
smoking too
how was she

last night then?
I ask her
what you mean?

you make it
sound as if
I had ***

with the *****
I meant how
did it go?

just the same
on about
the men she's

had *** with
as if I
cared a ****

who she's had
between her
skinny thighs

Dalya says
and how's he
the Aussie

you share with
in the tent?
he's ok

but his talk
is mostly
on good beer

or luscious
hot Sheilas
typical

just like men
Dalya moans
what do you

talk about
to the dame
in your tent?

I ask her
nothing much
certainly

not about
my *** life
she then sips

her cool beer
eyeing me
do you talk

to him then
that Aussie?
she asks me

sure I do
what about?
about beers

of the world
and cricket
and how long

it takes him
to wake up
after ***

you never
she utters
spluttering

a mouthful
of warm beer
over me

I like it
how her eyes
light up bright

like small stars
on a cold
frosty night.

Some days,
my son,
I think I'm getting

to see some kind
of horizon
without you,

but then it all
comes crashing down
and the scene's

the same,
the big hole
where you were,

the horizon
still out of reach
to any real sense,  

and you,
you the one
who was always there,

no longer,
least not
in this sphere,

not here.
I still talk to you
of course,

knowing you're around,
invisible to me,
but shaking your head

if I put on
a rock CD,
thinking the old guy

still has it,
despite the aching limbs.
I know you're around,
my son, but some days,
the light and life dims.

Sonya talks
endlessly
her Danish

stark beauty
saves her from
boring me

to no end
the Wagner
opera

in London
had gone well
a good meal

and fine *****
then back home
to her place

a ****** of
Delius
then it's bed

lying there
after ***
she talking

of the art
of being
what we make

of ourselves
from our birth
to our graves

I'm thinking
of the dame
singing loud

in Wagner's
Das Rheingold
how her *******

stole the show
as they say
the show's not

over till
the fat dame
sings her last

ending note
then Sonya
talks no more

and we lay
down in bed
to make love

with Wagner's
opera
going round
in my head.

The tall monk
with the large keys;
his way of opening up

the door to the church
as if moving the stone
from the tomb of Christ,

the key having done its job
is placed back
in his black habit pocket.

I polish the choir stalls
with duster
and an old tin

of polish;
I recall her lips
******* me

to a heaven.
The squat monk
pulled weeds

from the side bed,
the sun on his
bent tonsure head.

What's it like?
she asks me
my new friend
Abela

what's what like?

confessions
at the church
where you go

don't go now
lost my way
in limbo
I reply

but back then
when you went?
she asks me

went along
to the church
saw the priest
and confess

confess what?
she insists

any sins
that I had
committed

what's a sin?
she goes on

an offence
against God

involving
what actions?

Too many
to repeat

example
give me some

she lies there
in the bed
**** naked
hands behind
her dark brown
hair and head

having ***
outside of
a marriage
coveting
another's
**** wife
or husband
and so on
I tell her

so you are
committing
a sin thing
being here
with me now?

both of us
are sinning
in God's eyes

but I don't
believe in
God at all
she answers

God don't care
about that
He doesn't
considered
that matters
sin's a sin
in His book
I reply

that's not fair
why should I
be judged so?
she utters

pulling up
the white sheet
to cover
her two ****
from my sight

forgetting
that God saw
what we did
all last night

I kiss her
on the head
on the cheek
on the lips
on the chin
hoping she'll
relent and
let me in
to her bed
and her arms
between thighs
to make love
and not sin.