Often when I laugh
at something funny
either on TV
or book

or conversation,
I pause and feel
guilty that
after your death,

my dear one,
my son,
that humour
could still rear

its head
and cause
my laughter,
as if my laughing

was a kind
of betrayal
of my grief
or a hint

of forgetting you
or a watering down
of the pain I feel.
But it is not,

no less pain is there,
the grief still bites
as strong,
its teeth still sharp

as shark's jaws,
and as for
forgetting you,
my son,

more chance
of forgetting
self or my
own image wiped

from memory's hold.
Laughter's medicine
cannot dull
grief's ache or pain

or bring you
back again,
but it permits
a moment or

two or so
for me to close
my eyes or mind
and let it flow

in a calmer sea,
when there was you
alive and well
and happier me.

Fay met me
off the bus
after school

she looked pleased
to see me

her hair
was bunched up
in a ponytail

her school uniform
looked well worn

how was your day?
she asked

boring
I said
being educated
by the unwilling
to the uninterested
and Old Thompson
was as cruel as ever

we walked along
to the crossing
and crossed

how was your day?
I asked
how were the nuns?

it was about suffering today
she said
Sister Bede said
suffering was a gift
from God
it was our way
to suffer
for the souls
in Purgatory
so that they
may be freed

sounds kind of dark
I said

what do you mean?
she said

well that God
should give suffering
as a gift
so that it might
free others
from this Purgatory place

some of the saints
have been honoured
to have been chosen
to suffer
she said

we passed
the greengrocer shop
I looked in the window
the young guy
was serving
some old dame
with potatoes

I suffer from boils
on the *** sometimes
does that count?
I asked
does that get
some soul
out of Purgatory

she looked perplexed
I guess so
she said

ask the nuns tomorrow
if boils on the ****
count

she smiled
don't think I will
she said

we passed
the public house
the smell of beer
oozed out
from the open door

Daddy said
that these places
are the roosting places
of the ******

plenty of ****** then
on a Saturday night
I said
pretty packed
when I passed
on my way
to the cinema
last week

I guess
we should pray
for them
she said
Sister Bede said
our prayers
are worth more
than gold
do you pray?
she asked

only for the school
to fall down
or Thompson
to catch leprosy
I said

she frowned
that's not good
she said
we should pray
for good things
to happen

I liked her hair
and eyes
especially when
she gazed at me
as she spoke
her bright eyes
warming me
against the cold

ok
I said
I suppose
I could

we walked on
and across
Rockingham Street

I liked her
careful way
of walking
and her fine
small feet.

If my old man said
get neat dressed
washed up

and do your hair
we're going
to the cinema

or up West
I washed up
dressed

in my best suit
and Brylcreemed
my hair

and I was there
just him and me
no other to share

I didn't care
I was there
not elsewhere

and it was
ice cream
or lolly

and best seat
in the house
and I was glad

I was there
not elsewhere
just us

I didn't care
yet when
my mother

took us away
and not there
but elsewhere

away from him
I didn't care
I wasn't there

but elsewhere
for he
was a ****** to her

and made her hurt
and cry
and didn’t care

so I was glad
I wasn't there
with him

but elsewhere
with her
for he was not

worth my care
so I was out
of there

and elsewhere
so there
I didn't care.

Anne rubbed the stump
of her amputated leg.

She sat in her wheelchair.

I sat opposite
wondering what
it must be like
to have one leg.

Pull your skirt down,
the nursing nun said,
it's indecent
to show off
your leg like that.

Anne stared at the nun.

My leg hurts,
she said,
rubbing it,
helps it.

Where does it hurt?
the nun asked.

Everywhere
even the toes hurt,
Anne said grumpily.

The leg
has been amputated,
so how can it hurt?
the nun said,
now pull the skirt
over the stump,
Benedict doesn't
want to see
your stump.

I didn't mind,
but I said nothing;
I looked at the nun's
black habit,
her thin features,
her pointed nose,
thin lips.

Anne pulled the skirt
over her stump slowly.

It's my stump,
I should be able
to show it
to whom ever I want,
anyway, Benny likes
gawking at my stump,
he does it
all the **** time.

The nun gazed
at Anne in silence;
then at me.

Your manners
need to be brought
into line, young lady,
if you
were at my old school,
you would learn manners
or else.

Anne sat back
in her wheelchair.

But I’m not
at your old school,
I’m in a nursing home
after the butcher’s job
the doctors did
on my leg,
she said.

The nun's features stiffened.

I looked at Anne
and her tilted head
and the hidden stump.

There are many
complaints about you,
the nun said,
from other children
and the other
sister nuns;
we will report you
to the nursing home
authorities,
the nun said.

Anne said nothing,
but looked
at the swings
where other children
played.

I sat looking
at the nun,
her hands hidden
in the pockets
of her habit.

She walked off stiffly
across the green grass.

How about her,
Kid, huh?  

I gazed
at the walking off nun.

Guess she was
a bit annoyed,  
I said.

So what, Kid,
who gives a cat's ***
what they think or say?

I shrugged.

Push me to the beach,
she said,
get me away
from these penguins, Kid,
off to the sea.

So I pushed
the wheelchair down
the avenue of trees,
anything for Anne,
anything to please.

There's roundabouts
and bumper-cars
and a big wheel
and a coconut stall
Ingrid said

and a rifle range
I said
I won a goldfish
in a plastic bag
here once
on the rifle range

we were at the fairground
on the bomb site
by Meadow Row

bright lights
and noise
and laughter
and people shouting
and girls screaming
and music blaring
out of speakers

she was excited
to be there
her brown eyes
lit up
like fireworks
her brown hair
pinned back
at the sides
with hair grips

got to have a go
on the big wheel
she said

I want to go on
the coconut stall
I said
have you money?

yes
she said
2/-

your old man
give it to you?

no my uncle
gave it me

why's that?
I asked
as we gazed
around the fair

I do things for him
she said
as we approached
the big wheel
can't say what
it's out secret
my uncle said

I nodded grimly
and we climbed
on board
the big wheel together

and off it went
up in the evening sky
the Elephant and Castle
beneath us

our flats visible
because the Square lights
were on

the area was like
it had been bombed
over night
rather than
about 15 years
before

look at that
she said
pointing

and I followed her finger
and saw the horizon
of lights
and it was like
an explosion
of brightness
which brightened up
this best of all nights.

Miss Pinkie
opened the door
of her flat.

Ah, you brought
the whiskey, then,
good, now we can
really go to town,
she said.

I followed her
down the hall
into her lounge.

Take a seat,
I’ll get us
some glasses.

I sat down
on the white sofa.

The small lounge
was warm and cosy;
the few watercolour prints
were on the wall.

I thought the whiskey
would be a good idea,
I said.

Sure is,
she said,
coming into the lounge
with two glasses
and the whiskey bottle
under her arm.

She sat down
and poured us
two large drinks.

I sipped mine.

Shall I put on
some music?
She asked.

Sure, whatever.

She got up
and took out
an LP and put it
on her record player.

Mahler's first,
she said.

Ok,
I said.

She sat down again.

We sipped our drinks.

The music played.

Within ten minutes
she was all over me
like spilt spaghetti;
hands on my thighs,
legs, body, flies,
kisses on my cheek,
lips, neck
and still Mahler
played on regardless.

She paused
and sat back,
breathless.

I sat partially
undressed.

Not getting
any younger,
she said.

She wasn't;
she was already
nineteen years older
than I and looked it.

I think the bed
would be more
comfortable,
I suggested.

She nodded,
breathing hard.

She took me
by the hand
into her
darkened bedroom,
moonlight was in
at the window,
lighting up
part of the bed.

We lay down
next to each other.

I could hear her
breathing as she
finished *******.

I undressed, too.

I hope she doesn't
die on me here,
I thought.

What would I do?

What it was,
was her father dying.

Part of her
had died, too,
she said.

I had been phoned
by her son,
Mum's in a state,
he said;
Granddad's passed away.

I got back as soon
as I could, train and taxi,
driver yakking
about the weather,
and his holiday
on the never never.

And there she was
on our bed,
half undressed,
half not,
gazing at the wall
or window
or so seemed.

He's gone,
she said
without turning
her head,
suddenly it was,
Mum said,
just like that.

She whimpered gently,
sobs escaping
like bees in spring.

I sat on the bed
and stroked her thigh,
saying words, words
meaning nothing,
but trying to comfort,
but failing
as words do.

Will there be
a requiem mass?
I asked.

She paused a sob.

Suppose,
she said,
turning her head,
her red rimmed
eyes staring,
he was a catholic
of sorts, but of sorts
passed caring.

Her father was dead.

I knew him
hardly at all,
a meeting or so
and drinks the once,
few words, Irish lilt,
supping his beer.

I loved him,
she said,
he was my rock,
my anchor.

I knew
they rowed a lot.

The same
in temperament,
outlook, non diplomatic,
eye to eye, unblinking.

She turned away
to face the wall,
the sobs returning,
her body moving
to an inner grief.

I sat gazing
at her turned
away head,
part of her jaw
and cheek.

What it was,
was her father dying,
she wanting
to see him again,
but not believing.

I was 15 years old
and started
my first job.

I visited
my paternal
grandmother
in London
and we sat in
her back garden.

Is that your
new suit?

Yes I bought it out
of my own money.

Looks nice,
makes you look
like a gentleman,
she said.

Have you seen
your father
in recent years?

No not in years.

You're not like him
at all, thank God.

I'd not seen
my old man
for a few years
and that was ok.

How's your mother?

She's ok.

How's the feller
she's got now?

He 's good.
Good role model,
I said.

That's good.
Your father
was a schmuck.

Your grandfather
goes out
in the garden
when he
comes around.

I talk to him,
I’m his mother.
Mothers do that
kind of thing.

How's Grandfather?
I asked.

He's out,
gone to the shops,
needs to get out,
he hates retirement.

He taught me
how to draw,
I said.

He's good at that,
she said.

How are you?
I asked her.

She smiled,
her semi-blind
eyes twinkled.

I'm fine,
made of tough stuff,
she said.

I gazed at her,
her white hair
permed,
her eyes
half-blind,
her small
warm hands
in her lap.

And I remembered
the time
when my mother told me
that Gran chased
some woman
who tried to sell her
clothes pegs
which were dud.

I smiled.
She never saw,
but she listened
and that's what
grandmothers
are for.

I visited Jupp's house,
we had planned
a ball game
in the park.

Mrs J was in the lounge
on a sofa with her cat.

Come in, Benny,
she said,
it is Benny isn't it?
I nodded.

Yes, although
I was named Benedict
after the saint.

What do you think
of my *****?
She asked.
Did you want
to stroke it?

I wanted to get out
and play ball,
not stroke her *****.

It purrs when excited,
she said.

It was purring,
or she was purring
under her breath
like some
stage ventriloquist.

She wore a white dress
with a brown bow,
and her black hair
was wavy and permed.

Come closer,
she said,
it won't bite;
sit on the sofa,
near me.

Where was Jupp?
I wanted to get
some fresh air.

I sat next to her
on the brown sofa.

She smelt
of perfume and soap.

The *****
was brown and white,
furry, smooth.

You can touch it,
she said,
feel the fur,
smooth and soft.

She took my hand
and placed it
on the *****.

I stroked it
reluctantly.

Her hand
held mine,
moving it
over the *****.

It's purring, see;
feel it?

I nodded.

You can always
come here
and see *****
and play with it,
she said.

I smiled weakly,
wanting out;
the perfume smell
sickly in my nose.

Then Jupp came in
and said,
I’m ready to go.

I got up from the sofa
and Mrs J said,
want to kiss *****
before you go?

I kissed
the **** *****
and we walked
off and away.

Outside I said
to Jupp,
you and your
mother's *****.

And he sighed
and said,
I know.

Enid takes
a Love Heart
from the pack
I offer

she looks at
the coloured
lettering
on the sweet

what's it say?
I ask her

I love you
she replies

(not something
that a 9
old year boy

wants to hear
from a girl)

I take out
a Love Heart
from the pack

what's yours say?
she asks me

Kiss Me Quick
I read out

her dark eyes
gaze at me
shall I then?
she utters

I wouldn't
you don't know
where I’ve been
I tell her

her lips pout
then we mouth
our Love Hearts
and **** them
in silence

no one's said
I love you
about me
or to me
Enid says
seen it said
in the films
at the flicks
but one one
has said it
to my face

(I knew that
her old man
wouldn't have
said those words
her mother
couldn't form
that sentence
of warm words
for all tea
in China
I think that
but don't say
as we sit
on the top
of the brick
and concrete
bomb shelter
on the grass
of Banks House)
we swallow
the Love Hearts

have you said
kiss me quick
to a girl?
she asks me

not ever
while awake
I tell her

(what 9 year
old boy would
say such thing?)

she looks at
the black steel
railway bridge
across from
where we sit

but would you
say it now?
she utters

don't think so
I reply
another
sweet Love Heart?

I offer
from the pack
she takes one
and reads it

what's it say?
I ask her

broken heart
she tells me

I take one
from the pack

what's yours say?
she inquires

take a kiss
I reply

her dark eyes
feed on me

can I then?

(O my God
what to say
I’m thinking)

I guess so
I utter

preparing
for the worse
her 2 wet
9 year old
little lips
kiss my cheek
the wetness
seems to stay
even when
she has moved
her 2 wet
lips away

was that good?
she asks me

it was fine
I reply

I then put
the Love Hearts
pack away
in my coat
as we ****
on our sweets
the flavours
sickly sweet

she gazes
at me with
affection

I look down
at my feet.

The canary perched
on Janice's finger.

Her eyes wide
in amazement,
its plumage,
yellow, sickly,
beauty, all in one.

I looked on,
eyes wide
in amazement, too,
not at its yellow
plumage, but at
the bird's whitish poo.

Look what it's done,
Janice cried,
on my finger
and hand.

Her gran,
who usually said,
Make sure
the window's closed,
lay in a chair
and dozed.

Wipe it off
or take the bird,
Janice said.

I took the bird
in cupped hands,
studying its
slight alarm,
its ruffled look.

Janice went to
the kitchen to clean
her hand and finger
under the tap,
while Gran grunted
in her catlike nap.

The bird wanted to
escape my hold,
but I held it firm,
cupped tight in hands,
in captured hold,
studying its yellowness
and thimble head.

Janice returned
and said;
Naughty bird
to poo on
Janny's hand
and finger,
and took back
the bird
into her care
once more.

My hands
were clean;
it had not
shat on me,
not a bit,
if it had,
I thought,
not said,
I’d have
strangled it.

Lydia
pale and thin
lanky hair

lightish brown
walks with me
to see hot

steam engines
at Kings Cross
train station

her old man
grudgingly
said she could

go with me
we get on
a bus there

sitting on
a side seat
some big guy

stares at us
his deep eyes
drinks us in

then gawks at
Lydia
she blushes

looks away
I give him
my John Wayne

cowboy stare
he looks back
then away

we get off
at our stop
at Kings Cross

smell of steam
sound of trains
huff and puff

and people
rushing by
on to trains

off of trains
we both sit
on a seat

watching this
unfolding
train drama

with porters
with trolleys
and luggage

and parcels
passengers
going by

rich and poor
Lydia
beside me

wanting this
as I do
the grey smoke

rising high
to the roof
turning blue.

Benedict waited patiently(as patiently as a nine year old boy can wait) for Janice at the end of Bath Terrace where she lived with her grandmother in the block of flats behind somewhere on the third floor where he‭'‬d been once or twice to see the yellow canary and stay for tea and why she lived with her grandmother and not her parents he never asked although it puzzled him often especially at night when he lay awake kept awake by the coal shunting railway engine opposite the flats of Banks House where he lived with his parents and sister and brother but Janice's grandmother was a strict disciplinarian and even Benedict was wary of her when he saw her out or when he visited the flat and recalled her saying I’ll slap your behind my girl if you misbehave‭ she would often say in his hearing and he'd see Janice blush and stare wide eyed at her grandmother he stared back up Bath Terrace and saw Janice walking quickly towards him her blonde hair long and fine coming out beneath the red beret her creamy coat buttoned up to her neck he watched her walking she was late she hurried forward he was dressed in his blue jeans and jumper and a pocketful of coins his mother had given him for an ice cream for the both of them sorry I’m late Janice said Gran kept me behind said I had to help with the washing and I had to hold the washing through the ringer while Gran turned the big handle she said I  was too weak to do that bit but I had to do something Benedict nodded he knew her grandmother was a determined woman and knew that when she do something you did it or else‭ does she know where we are going‭? ‬he asked yes I asked her yesterday she said yes if I was with you and to stay with you and to behave don't think she would have let me go if you weren't with me Janice said so they walked along Rockingham Street under the railway bridge and down the street that went by the Trocadero cinema and out into the New Kent Road she chattering about her canary the one he'd seen a few times a yellow bird that sometimes talked if it was in the mood and once when he visited the flat he tried to teach the bird to repeat a four letter word but Janice said don't or I’ll get the blame and be for it so he didn't but he thought it would have been fun have the bird come out with the four letter word to an unsuspecting grandmother are we walking or getting a bus‭? ‬he asked we can walk she said it's just passed our school ok he said so they walked down the subway along the echoing tunnel he singing a few bars of a Frankie Vaughan song she looking at him despairingly he singing it in a country music kind of voice playing an imaginary guitar and making a guitar sound in between singing and then they came out at the other side of the subway and they walked along St George's Road towards the Imperial War Museum where he had suggested they go the previous day‭ ‬he had been there many times especially after school sometimes just to see a particular set of guns or bombs or see the WW1‭ ‬set out in glass cases the small figures of soldiers in trenches and painted backgrounds of trees blown up or no man's land how long are we staying‭? ‬she asked as long as we want he said I may have a go at the air plane controls or see the machine guns and grenades and bayonets she thought it could be boring seeing all that she didn't like guns or bombs or the huge figures of soldiers by walls she only said she'd come to be out and to be him and maybe he would buy her an ice cream or a drink of pop or something she had wanted to go swimming but her grandmother said she didn't like the idea and she thought it indecent to go around in swimwear in the public eye but others do Janice had pleaded I don't care what others do the grandmother said it is you I am thinking about I promised your parents I’d take care of you and keep you safe and I am determined to keep my promise swimming indeed with all those people hardly clothed and some O my God in skimpy swimwear so one can see their parts Benedict laughed when Janice told him his mother had no problems about him going swimming but to be on the look out for children who peed in the water if you see yellow water she said keep away from it get out one can get diseases from *** his mother said but they were going to the War Museum and as they approached the steps he sensed her thin hand reach out for his and he hoped no one especially any boys from school saw him and her and her hand touching his and he hoped that if she decided to give him a nervous kiss it would be the one thing he hoped the boys from school would certainly miss.

Your eyes
and your smile,
that was what most
attracted me
to you, Yehudit.  

We were just teens
that first time,
you looking back at me
on the school coach,
your eyes lit up
like search lights
in the dark,
your thirteen year old
(coming up fourteen)
heart and smile
could melt ice
in the Atlantic
let alone
my fourteen year old
fresh kid heart
(slightly ripped apart).

The kid I sat next to
knew nothing
of my burning heart,
no smoke visible,
no burning embers
to twitch his nose.

After came the kiss;
while others sang carols,
we kissed by the moon's light,
stars witnessing,
angels applauding;
the others too engrossed
in singing to note
our absence
in the shadows;
our meeting of lips;
our thumping hearts,
fired up, bursting
almost out.

Someone called,
we parted;
lips moist,
like small boats
on a vast ocean,
as another
gave an echoing
shout.

It is spider time again.
Last night
as I was going

upstairs to bed
I saw the big spider
that had been spotted

by my son
but had escaped.
It was sitting

on my white coat
and so I opened
the front door quietly

and then
grabbed him
and gently

put him out
into the night air
alive and well

if a bit confused.

Art
is like

a universal prayer
in the language

of colour,
shape,

design and pattern,
but with an

infinite span
of interpretations

seeking
an answer

I met Helen
by the Trocadero cinema  
after school
after tea

I mustn't be late
must be home
by 7 not 8
or my mum said
she'll tan my backside
a bright red
Helen said

ok I'll walk you
home in time
I said

we looked
at the photos outside
on the walls
and inside
in the foyer
of the film
and film stars
the coloured pictures
the bright lights

then we walked down
the road
to the subway
and down and up
the other side

and looked
at the photos
at the ABC
cinema

it was smaller
more compact
the glass doors
open
the inside
inviting

the bright lights
and large pictures
of the actors
and actresses
Robert Taylor
Doris Day
John Wayne
and others

then we walked
down the road
to the fish and chip shop
and looked in
through the window

what can we afford?
I asked

I have no money
she said

I've 6d
I said
that'll but us
some chips to share

so we went in
and asked
for 6d worth of chips
and the guy gave us
some crackling too

and we went over
by the wall and seats
and sat
in the warm
and ate our food

and she said
that boy Cogan
said I looked
like a four eyed chimp
do I?

no you look pretty
I said
he can't talk
he has glasses too
and looks
like a chimp
not you

she smiled
and took off
her thin wired
NHS glasses

and wiped them
on with the hem
of her dress
then put them
on again

and as we
looked outside
it was gushing down
with dull grey rain.

And Reynard said
why is that ****
always looking out
for you
lunch breaks?

we were going out
after lunch
in the school

the sun was out
the field packed
with kids
mostly in groups
girls sitting
on the grass

boys playing
a ball game
or tag games
one or two
chatting up
the older girls

I guess
she likes me
I said

I'm off
to kick ball
you coming?
he said

no I’ll see
what she wants
and meet after
I said

Yiska was
by the fence
arms folded
staring at me

thought you
weren't coming
she said
been waiting ages

had lunch
and got talking
with my friend
I said

she raised her brows
what's he like?
she asked
nodding towards
Reynard's
departing back

he's ok
he's funny
I said

we walked up
the field
looks moody
she said

who?

him

no he's ok

she yakked
about her mother
and her mother's
bad moods
and how she'd
rowed with her
before school

what about?
I asked

don't ask

I already have

she sighed
usual stuff
my untidy room
my having
my record player
too loud
playing Elvis
instead of her
classical stuff

we reached
the far end
of the field
and looked back
towards school

I dreamed of you
last night
I said

did you?

no
you wouldn't
let me

she giggled
no really?

I nodded

what did we do?
did we kiss
and such?

no not
over much

(I hadn't dreamed
of her at all
I dreamed
of Hayley Mills
and some
desert island
and fish cooking
over an open fire)

what then?
she said

I woke up
and you
had gone

she frowned
and took my hand
and walked back
towards school

her warm hand
in mine
her pulse
tickling me
as we walked

and then
she spoilt it all
and talked.

Netanya
sits crossed legged
on the couch

beside me
her husband
in the chair

by the heat
of fire
their children

and few friends
sitting down
all about

listening
or talking
I notice

her red dress
the dress hem
riding high

up her thigh
capturing
my young eye

stealthily
she puts her
thin ringed hand

up my back
stroking it
her fingers

playing me
up and down
piano like

but she's not
looking round
she studies

her husband
as he talks
her fingers

are walking
and doing
the talking

stirring me
sexually
no one knows

except one
her oldest
married girl

who spots her
mother's hand
on my back

but looks off
and away
unlike her

her face chilled
the room's hot
so am I

my pecker
stirs from sleep
giant like

Netanya
unaware
just sits there

*******
studying
her husband's

balding head
While I stare
straight ahead.

Even as she sleeps
she dreams of him.

Coloured pictures,
actions, words,
senseless, changing
upon scene
upon scene.

She stirs.

Moves about
the bed.

She dreams of him
even in her sleep,
action packed,
******, kisses
given, received,
put on hold.

She sighs,
wordless,
moves hand
to her *******,
eyes closed,
head full
of dreams.

Awake
she'll know
he's dead,
but in sleep
nothing is
what it seems.

We discovered
the tents leaked
in Nakskov
and Dalya said

she was going
to write to the company
when she got
back home

not all
of them leaked
and so we paired up
a few of us

to avoid using
the leaky ones
but I’m not sharing
with the Yank *****

Dalya said
I’ve had enough
of her since Hamburg
you could share

with me
I said
but I don’t think
it would go

down well
with the others
let's leave it
for now

she said
let's see the place
have a drink and such
so we walked

and had a good view
of the place
then had a drink
and a bite to eat

in some café
and as we sat there
I watched her
light up a smoke

and lit one
of my own
and she said
I suppose

I could share
with Yorkshire girl
despite her
constant yak

if she's agreeable
I shared
with the Aussie guy
who smelt

of beer
and Lifebuoy soap
who told
pathetic jokes

and talked
of the Yorkshire girl
and how he'd
like to

give her one
but I just read
my Russian book
not bothering

to give
an interested look.

Sonya
that Parisian street
is still there
no doubt

although whether
that cheap hotel
is still there
is another

question
but we were there
back then
the double

old bed
the bidet
the sink greasy
and the toilet

well less said
the better
but Paris
was good

and we walked
its streets
and ate and drank
in its restaurants

and cafés
and saw
the art galleries
and rode the metro

sometimes for free
avoiding
the ticket collector
and the room

and that bed
and us lying there
the window open
the street sounds

and the smell
of the City
and I
with my Dostoevsky book

and you saying
can't you read
something
more cheerful?

and you lying there
with your blonde hair
spread on the pillow
on the bed

and you talking
of Kierkegaard
and Either Or
or something

about a leap
of faith
and you puking
into the bidet

after the cheap wine
and I reading
and saying
serves you right

but sorted you
later that night
and how we love
the early morning

feel of Paris
the opening
of the window
and wow

there we were
in the city
where Hemingway stayed
and Ezra Pound

and Henry Miller
and others
worth their salt
and we kissing

and embracing
and making
the long love
with moon and stars

and the night sky
up above.

You want to see him
Now? The receptionist
Asked. Yes, this minute,
You replied. What’s it

About? None of your
Concern. I think I need
To know before I can
Interrupt him. You need

To know jackshit. There
Was a staring of eyes.
Hesitation. A looking
Down at the phone, a

Scratching of forehead
Dislodging flakes of dry
Skin. Is it that important?
Maybe you could give

Me some idea what you
Need to see him about?
***, you mutter. ***?
Yes, he came around

To my place last night
And after a real good
Session lasting until
The small hours he up

And left without so
Much as a goodbye kiss
Or whispered word. That
Right? Yes, you said. I’ll

Get him right away, I
Wanted to know where
The heck my husband
Was last night and now

I know. Are you sure
Want to see him now?

(2010 POEM)

Remember
Abela
that café
we sat in

in the city square
and you'd be drinking
your white wine
and I’d have my beer

and we'd talk
of the sights
and places we'd go
in a day or so

and about the Greens
and what they
were like
and how he

(Mr Green)
would always
contradict
what she

(Mrs Green)
was saying
like she'd say
it's hot in here

and he'd say
no it's not
it's quite cold
or he'd say

this fish
is under cooked
and she'd say
no it's overcooked

and I’d talk about
Schopenhaur
and you'd sit there
dumb eyed

and secretly fuming
(so you told me
later that day
in bed as you turned

your back on me
and I had to stare
at your rounded
shoulders

and silent ***)
or I'd talk about
or read some
Dylan Thomas poems

to you and you'd
put your fingers
over your ears
and say

enough already
and if I used to
gawk at the waitress
as she went by

you'd give me
the eye
(that no no
kind of look)

and I’d return
my eyes
to my book
but that was over

40 years ago
(where you are now
I don't know)
but I often think

about that foreign place
and you and ***
and your nice ***
pretty face.

See Yiska
the snow
is falling

a tractor
pushes its way
through the snow
on the field

gulls and rooks
follow in its wake

the sky a dull grey
the sun wiped out
or nearly so

hear Yiska
the wind
through the trees
the birds calling

hear the snowflakes
silently falling
hear our breath
expressing
as we speak
or remain silent

feel Yiska
the snowflakes
on our faces
on our noses

hold out
your slim hand
let the palms
hold the snow

feel my closeness
sense me
drawing near

the nurses are talking
they talk
of their love lives
of the ***
they've had

hear their words
how they tease us
their words
of *******
and freedom
and normality

feel the emptiness
bite us

our nerves taut
as wire
as we walk

see Yiska
how they walk
the nurses behind us
and before us

see how
their heavy coats
hold them
their black boots
marching like troopers

hear the nattering
of their lips
and tongues

sense my mental fatigue
and yours and ours

wait Yiska
they will take us
back to the hospital soon
and lock us up
once more
in the white ward
with the dull
water coloured prints
and photographs
of yesteryears

be near Yiska
let our fingers touch
let us feel
too little
or sense too much.

Limoges
the driver said
you can get out
and stretch
your legs
for awhile

so we got off
the coach
and walked
about the place

Miriam beside me
her red hair
in a mess
her tight fitting
blouse about
to explode

you hear
about these places
then you're there
and it all seems
so ordinary
like you have
waited to see
something
and it just seems
so flat
she said

I don't get excited
about anything
I take it
as it comes
sights
views
music
*****
girls
I said

am I
just a girl?
nothing special?
she asked

there's only
one you
only one
red head
with your
lovely eyes
and smile
I said

O yes
of course
what are you
after?

beer and burger
I said

and me
what about me?

you can have
a beer and burger
too

no I meant
what do you
think of me?
you were all
over me last night
in the coach
with the lights low
and that Mozart music
on the radio
flowing out  

I recalled
I had been
and not only
because of her
and the Mozart
and her lovely eyes
and her perfume

but all together
all that and me
and her and life
and her softness

we can
have it here
she said
pointing to a bar

ok
I said

so we entered
the bar
and ordered
beer and burger
and she sat there
opposite
her tight blouse
still waiting
to explode

and a radio played  
some French music
and Miriam smiled
and I wanted
to kiss her

but I didn't
I just sat
and waited
for the beer and burger
and watched
and enjoyed her.

Amy draws a curtain
On her mistress’s midday
Slumbers. She wishes she

Could enter her mistress’s
Dreams, could be there,
Closer, sharing the same air,

The same thoughts, the same
View and smell and sounds.
Her master, Marcus has gone

Off on a visit to some man of
Importance in Rome. Good
At least he’s out of the way.

At least I can be here when
She wakes and not have him
Sniffing around like a dog for

A ***** on heat. She draws
Back the curtain a few inches
And looks at her mistress.

The eyes closed, the lips
Sealed in a kind of downward
Slant, the nose breathing the

Midday air without hurry, with
One arm above her head and the
Other by her side. She wishes

She could lie beside her now,
Sense her arms about her, her
Lips on hers, her words soft as

Falling petals entering her ears.
He had her last night; he had her
Beside him in the bed; had her

In the usual way of men. She
Wonders if he could sense her
Presence in his bed beside his

Wife, could feel the indentation
Of her head upon the pillow
Where she had lain some nights

Before his return. Some parts of
Her wishes he could, if only out
Of jealousy of his return and his

Place in her mistress’s bed and
In her arms and him having the
Kisses and not her as she had

Before. She is tempted to sneak
Over and lay a soft kiss on her
Mistress’s brow or cheek. To feel

Again that soft skin, that feel of
Flesh, but she lets the curtain drop.
She will bide her time and wait until

The master goes again, but until that
Time and moment comes she must
Take what little comfort she can

Seeing her mistress and sensing
Her love and in the private moment
When they can, exchange the odd

Embrace or kiss or take some comfort
From just the view of the one she
Loves so deeply as other lovers do.

Put your finger
on this place
Nima said

putting my finger
on the puncture holes
on her arm's skin
where the needles
pushed in

that's my feed holes
that where I get
my kicks
and buzz from

I felt it
coldly warm
young
and smooth
yet slightly rough

we were in
Trafalgar Square
sitting by the fountain
it was 1967
I’d bought a new
Coltrane album
from a record shop
and had it
by my feet

you're lucky I’m here
she said
the fecking doctor
didn't want me
out of the hospital
until I could prove
I was trust worthy
what a laugh
she said

glad you are here
I said
I’d have waited
if you never showed
or gone
to the hospital
to find you

she lit up a cigarette
and gave one
to me

we inhaled
watching people
near by
pigeons
water splashes
heat from the sun
other bodies
laughter
snatches
of other conversations

they wouldn't
trust you there
she said
not after the ***
in the cupboard thing

I smiled
no one saw

no one saw
but they guessed after
she said
and that nurse
(who probably
doesn’t get any)
was quite funny
with me after
eyed me over
like my Mother does
when she comes
which is rare  
what's the record?
she asked

pointing to the LP
by my feet

a Coltrane record
jazz player
I said

if I didn't have
to get back
and I had money
I’d take us
to that cheap
hotel again
and do the *** thing

I need a fix too
need a feed

she sat
and inhaled

and I watched
a couple nearby
kissing
out of the corner
of my eye.

My father
and I
went in
the canteen
on the building site

having completed
one row
of windows

we had our sandwiches
he went to buy
two mugs
of strong tea

I sat and thought
of Marion who
I’d been with
the night before

blonde
lively
a singer
with this band
who bubbled
and danced

and I said
you have
a great figure

O do I?
she said
when a young man
tells me that
I wonder
what his intentions are
she added

and usually
they involve
getting me
in the sack
and doing things
my Daddy
would not have
approved of

no no
I was just saying
I said
going red

I was just looking
as a kind of
artistic viewpoint
like you were
a model for Renoir
or someone

didn't that guy
paint **** women?
she said

sure
some of the time
I said

well then
what kind of model
would I be?
she said
the type
that shows off
her ****?

no no
I said
going redder
the decent kind
no other kind
what have entered
my mind

she sang
a few bars of
Don't Sit Under
The Apple Tree
and sat
on my knee

and my pecker
stirred wastefully

and she talked
of her next gig
and did this
kind of ****
shaking jig

and my father
brought the two mugs
of tea and sat down
at the table with me

and thoughts of
Marion
and my pecker
went away
until I saw her
later that day.

Milka stares
at the fields
at the woods
at the sky

(coloured blue
as if it
was painted
by a child)

from her room
the window
open wide
her brother's

were at work
her mother
out shopping
her father

on the farm
yesterday
Benedict
and she lay

on her bed
they kissing
embracing
while downstairs

her mother
was cooking
the dinner
her brothers

out fishing
her father
milking cows
Milka stares

at her bed
empty now
Benedict
back at work

she alone
in her room
just the warm
memory

of his kiss
on her lips
and his lips
would have kissed

her elsewhere
other than
but she'd not
let him there.

Even the roughest
Shell of an oyster
Can sometimes contain
A beautiful pearl,

Annona had said
To Amy the night
Before as she lay
In her mistress’s

Arms, and you are my
Pearl, she remembers
Her adding as she
Turned towards her and

Kissed her. Now she waits
As her mistress starts
To slowly dry and
Dress herself after

Attending the baths,
The words still in her
Mind, the kisses still
Imprinted on her

Flesh. Attend me as
Any slave girl would,
Annona had said
That morning on the

Way to the baths, no
One must suspect there
Is any difference
In the nature of

Our relationship.
Amy knows about
This. Discretion is
Part of her makeup,

Part of her training.
Even this new love
Has its dark dangers.
Marcus returns soon,

Annona says, and
Then we must both be
Extra cautious, must
Tread carefully. She

Gazes at Amy
Who stands and watches
Her. The beautiful
Pearl, she now muses,

Drying her foot, such
A delightful find,
A fine purchase in
The slave marketplace.

Amy nods and smiles
And bends down taking
The small towel from her
Mistress’s hands and

Dries the foot. If it
Weren’t for those others
Nearby at the baths,
She would lean down and

Touch the head, feel the
Hair, kiss the lips, sense
The flesh on flesh, stare
Into the eyes, see

Brave new worlds there. If
Only she was more
Braver than she was;
If only she dare.

I miss you
you I miss
time's hold
gone now
like water
through sands
once here
slipped through
hands touch
miss you much.

I love you
you I love
feelings bold
since birth's
unfold
and given free
from me to you
and you to me
and though there
you are not
but in other world
beyond my touch
love you much.

I need you
you I need
your quiet presence
solid form
wisdom embodied
and humour too
over years we knew
and always such
I need you much.

I want you
you I want
more than treasures
more than gold
more than life's
false promises
of riches far
out of finger's
greedy touch
I want you much.

Regrets
are like
burnt out
cigarettes

fit only
to be tossed
away
that's what

I say
Yehudit said
and things
she said

stick in
my head
like she didn't
believe JFK

was blown away
until she saw
the picture
in the papers

the very next day
or when
Marilyn Monroe
was found dead

in 1962
she said
you're just upset
because what

her body
does for you
(what did it do?)
besides

I don't believe
it was suicide
she said
someone had

something to hide
or when she said
there's no smoke
without fire

like there's always
an object
of ****** desire
but she’d always

let me
if I asked politely
or she’d say
you can't this week

Auntie's come to stay
and there was
the big pond
where we'd lay

and gaze at the sky
or watch
the ducks
on the water's skin

or kiss and talk
or go for a walk
or just laze
and absorb the days

she said
now the pond's
abandoned
and she is dead.

Yochana
sits beside
Angela
her best friend

Miss G plays
Beethoven
on the old
gramophone
piano piece
sonata

Yochana
likes this one
the music
stirs her up
conjures up
images
desires

Angela
looks behind
at the back
of the class

she sees them
the two boys
sitting bored
eyeing her

Rowland pokes
out his tongue
but Benny
has that smile
that hair quiff

how is she
he lip talks
Yochana?

she turns back
to the front

he's looking
she informs
Yochana
that Benny

I don't care
about him
Yochana
says softly
(not wanting
to disturb
Beethoven)

but she does
she senses
his hazel
eyes touching
her body

bringing out
hot flushes
distracts her
emotions
from music

Beethoven
(poor Ludwig)
pushed aside

and she feels
Benny’s eyes
hazel warm
look inside.

John is there
by the fence
arms folded
looking up
at the sky

Elaine feels
very shy
wants to speak
to be near
to feel safe

he sees her
waves to her

she blushes
walks over

you OK?
he asks her

I’m all right
she mutters
looking round
for others
who may see
both of them
together

but none seems
to notice
or to care
that she's there

let's walk on
she tells him
on the field
of the school

they move on
together
she feels his
hand brushing
against hers
electric
sensation
flows through her

beating heart
pumping blood
all around
her body

she stops him
holds his hand
feels his pulse

they tease me
the others
other girls
other boys
she tells him

why is that?
he asks her

they call me
the Frump
the sexless
old granny

you're not that
he tells her
not a frump
(he doesn't
known if she
is sexless
doesn't say)
you are you
a sweet girl
a bit shy

he goes on
talking words

but his hand
is in hers
she senses
the warmth there

the fingers
touching hers
pulsing life

electric
a love feel
running there
not a trick.

That was the night
I dreamed of Yiska

and she met me
at the back
of the cottage
by the woods

and it seemed summer
it was warm
birds sang
and flowers
were showing off
their colour
and perfume

and she stood there
and smiled and said
I made it here
what do you think?

good to see you
I said

and it was
and I ran to her
before she could
disappear as they do
in dreams

and she kissed me
and it felt real
and warm
and arousing

and we walked
into the woods
and she talked
about her
mother's depression
and how her mother
moaned about
the untidiness
of her room

I thought yes
she is here
and I reached
for her hand
and held it
and felt
with my thumb
her skin

it felt pulsing
and alive
and she talked more
but I wasn't listening

I was trying
to feel her hand
deeper
more alive
than most dreams

and then we stopped
and we were by
the big pond

and she said
let's go swim
let's go swim
**** naked

and I thought
I can't swim
I’ll drown

and woke up
and pulled
the warm
blanket down.

What people say
or do

is of less interest
to me

than why
they do

or say
what they do.

The psychology
behind

words
and deeds.

They were dropped off
at the church
like the others
ready for choir practice

but they held back
and crept into
the front porch
to be alone
for a few moments

the voices
of the others
died down and away

Yehudit gazed out
into the evening sky
feeling Benny near her
you do love me
don't you?
she asked

sure I do
why ask?
he said

you seemed
distant today
at school
and when I looked over
at you in class
you looked away

he gazed at her
outline in the door way
of the porch
you know
how it is
Rowland was saying
how's your love life?
and all that stuff
and I was trying
to make it seem
I didn't have one
and wanted
just be free
of his words
and jest
I guess

she looked back
at him
aren't I worth
getting jest about?
if you loved me
it wouldn't matter
she said

I know
you're right
but us guys
are stupid at times
we don't think
in your league

girls like
to be seen
to be loved
not just words
she said

a bell rang
from the tower

must go
she said

wait
he said
look I’m sorry
I made a mistake
I do love you
and it's more
than words

she walked out
of the porch
and into the evening
semi-dark
looked at the stars
and moon

the next time
I look at you
in class
at least smile
at me
she said

sure I will
he said

she kissed his cheek
and ran off
around the back

and he stood
watching the moon
and stars

and her footsteps
faded into the night
and he thought
she's right.

Lizbeth waited for me
by the milk sheds
(I’d been weighing milk
at the farm)

she was dressed
in a black skirt
and green blouse
her hair loose
about her shoulders

thought you'd never
be out
she said

how did you know
I was here?
I asked

your mum told me
when I called
at the cottage

I didn't know
you were coming
out here
in the countryside
to see me

thought I’d
surprise you
she said
didn't know
you'd be
at the farm

I do it
when I can

how can you be
near cows
they smell
she looked at me
critically
I thought
we could go
somewhere together
she said

what for?
I asked

you know
she said

don't you ever
give up on that?
I said

on what?

you know

she smiled
must be some place
we can be alone
she said

I can't think
of anywhere
I said

what about
your bedroom?

you have been
there before
I said

yes I know
but only to see
your fossils
and rabbit skulls
and butterfly collection
and Spitfire model
she said

I walked on
she followed

we could have
done things
she said

we did
we looked
at my nature collection

I didn't want
to see
your nature collection
I wanted ***
she said loudly

a few birds
flew from the hedge
the word echoed
around the fields
about us
like thunder

maybe some
other day or time
I said
I got to home
and change
out of these clothes

she followed me moodily
through the small wood

I walked quickly
or she'd want ***
there
if she could.

Jane is there
by the hedge
down the lane

dressed in grey
her black hair
hanging free
of ribbons

her dark eyes
focusing
as I walk
towards her

have you been
waiting long?
I asked her

no not long
she replies
watching birds
in her hedge
and the sky

been helping
my father
saw some logs
I tell her

let's go see
the empty
old cottage
she suggests

so we walk
down the lane

rooks above
making noise

running stream
beside us

other birds
are in flight
making song

I watch her
beside me

her grey dress
moving free
as she walks

her black hair
shoulder length

she smells of
fresh flowers

in some dreams
of my nights
she is there

and we kiss
and we run
through the fields

hands waving
to the rooks
in the sky

the empty
old cottage
stands silent
and we stare
in silence

all I want
is to kiss
her two lips
waiting there.

We looked down
at the Thames
from the Embankment

the river was dull
the day overcast

Fay peered down
at the water
people have drowned
in that water
she said
sometimes by accident
but mostly by choice
you know suicide

I peered
at the flowing water
one of Dickens' novels
begins on the Thames
I said
I think they used
to pull dead bodies
out of the water
and claim the *****
if there was any

I can't imagine
wanting to drown
in that ***** water
she said

I don't suppose
the water matters
if you're going
to ***** it
I said

Daddy says
that people
who are suicides
go to hell
Fay said

I guess people
who take their lives
think they're
in Hell already
I said

I pray for souls
in Purgatory
she said
the nuns at school
say we must
do you pray
at your school?
she asked

only for lessons
to be over quickly
I said

she frowned at me
I mean real prayers?

not real prayers
the boys repeat
what they're told to
but it don't
mean much
I said

I hope people
pray for me
if I go
to Purgatory
she said anxiously

what makes you think
you'll go to this
Purgatory place?
I asked

Daddy says I will
because I’m not good
she said

you're OK
you'll go to Heaven
if there is
a place like that
I said

of course there is
she said
gazing at me
don't you believe
there is?

I haven't thought
about it
but if you say
there is
I guess so
I said

she looked
at the river again
her fair hair moving
in the mild wind
her blue eyes fixed
on the water

if you go to Heaven
then I want
to be there too
I said
or Purgatory
or wherever you are
she looked at me

why?
she asked
why with me?

how I feel
I guess ought

you to feel like that?
we're only 12 years old
and you're
a non-Catholic
and my daddy
doesn't like me
to be with that type

you're with me now
I said

but I shouldn't be
she said

why are you?
I asked

the water looks cold
she said
and so filthy too

I nodded my head
I wanted to kiss her
but didn't
and thought
what is a boy
(Catholic or not)
to do?

Once a child's
childhood

has been tainted
it cannot

be repaired
or wiped clean

or swept away
it remains

like a scar
which always shows

and may fade
or fester

depending
if it is

picked at
or not.

An old friend
once told me
Benedict

you only have
the day now
yesterday

has gone
tomorrow
is a promise

that may
not come
live each moment

as if
it were
your last

and make
the lives
of others

better
for having
known you

and felt
your love
and concern.

When I was young
I tended to think

I had forever
and cast

my time around
like a spend drift

with the shakes,
but as I get older

and I know
I am on

my last run
I tend to count

my time
like a tight-******

miser
trying to hoard

those few coins
of time.

Watching a woman
eating a muffin
today at the café

I thought myself
viewing a show
of performance art,

the way
she broke it
apart

in her hands
and lifted
a small piece

to her mouth
and ate,
wiping

the crumbs away,
with the finger
just so

and she so
unaware
she was being viewed,

her art performance
receiving
a silent applause.

It was mid morning
and the sun was warm
and Anne was in
her wheelchair
her stump visible
at the hem
of her red shirt

what's it do for you?
she asked me

what?

this sunshine
and warmth?

not much
I said

it should
it should make you
want to jump up
and dance around
shouting out
to the sun god
she said

you couldn't dance
with your one leg
I said

up you Kid
she said
glaring at me
up you as far
as it will go

well you couldn't
could you
I said
I mean
I would help you
if you wanted to
get up and dance
but on your own
you'd have a job

she sighed
if I want to
****** get up
and dance I will
she said

she heaved herself
out of the chair
and stood on
her one leg
and began to
hop about

until she fell over
and lay
on her back
staring
at the sky

how was that
for a fecking
dance then?
she said

a nursing nun
came walking
quickly over to us

get me up Kid
before the penguin
gets here

I helped her up
the best I could
but she
was heavier than I
and the nun reached us
just as Anne
was hauling
herself up
by holding
onto my body

what were you doing?
the nun asked

dancing
what's it look like?
Anne said

the nun helped
Anne back
into her wheelchair
and stood there
gazing at her

you're so rude Anne
the nun said
do you know
how many
complaints
there have been
about you?

who's counting
Anne said

it was my fault
I said
I asked her
to show me
how she danced

Anne looked
at me

the nun raised
an eyebrow
well you
should know better
Benedict
the nun said
then she walked off

you didn’t have
to lie for me
Anne said
but thanks
anyway Kid

she pulled her skirt
over her stump
and I
was pleased
by what I did.

I had one
of those
uninvited
phone calls
the other day:

Hello, Benny?

Yes, speaking.

I see
that the insurance
on your washing machine
is is about
to run out,
would you
be interested
in taking out
a 5 year
insurance plan
with us?

I only rent
the machine,
it's not mine.

Oh, I see,
do they have
the machine
under warranty?

I don't know
and I don't care,
I said,
it's their
machine
not mine.

OK
the guy said,
have a nice day.

What was that
all about?

where the heck
do they get
that information
from?

then get it
wrong?

I must read
1984 again.

We hid under
the railway bridge
in Arch Road
by the back
of the coal wharf

it was raining
we stared out
at the falling wetness
coming down heavy

just as well
we were near here
Ingrid said
otherwise
we'd have got soaked

I peered out
the sky
was a dull grey
lightening threatened
and thunder

I felt the cold
as I huddled
into my jacket
and shirt
and blue jeans

have to stay here
until it stops
I said

she put her hands
into the pockets
of the green raincoat
she was wearing
her brown hair
pinned back
with hair grips
was damp

suppose so
but it could be ages
and my mum'll worry
if I’m too late
Ingrid said

I peered at the sky

hopefully won't be
too long

I looked at her
standing next to me

we  could always
start a fire
if we get too cold
I said
I''ve got matches
and there's
an old newspaper
over there
and bits
of old wood
from the bomb site
and coal over there

she didn't look
impressed

we can wait
and see
she said

I've lit fires
before here
I said

she looked
at me doubtfully

over there
in the corner
a fair size one

she looked
at the corner
how did you
put it out after?
she asked

I peed on it
I said

she gazed at me
her mouth open
her mildly
buck teeth smiling
at me

what if someone
saw you?

no one can see
from here
not under
this bridge
apart from tramps
or hobos
who hide here
sometimes at night
but it was daytime then
I said

she stared out
at the rain

sometimes Benedict
you are not good
to know
she muttered

I smiled
gazed at the sky

two 8 year olds
hiding
from the rain
and I said
I wonder why?

The first kiss
I remember
from a female

was some girl
on a bus trip
to the seaside

back in
the 1950s
when I

was about
9 years old
and I happen

to be sitting
next to her.
I don't know why

she kissed me
but it was nice
in a way boys

of nine
think
of kissing.

We are
temporal residents.
Where we live,

how much we have,
who we are,
are just

temporal factors.
We can take
nothing

with us
except our souls,
and if you

don't believe
you have one
of those

then you
have nothing
at all.