Put your finger
along there
Jane said
gently

and she opened
her hands
to form
a kind of cup

and there
was the butterfly
yellowish with white
it opened and closed

its wings
feel the smoothness
she said
I focused

on her palms
the skin
thinking how lucky
the butterfly was

to land there
I gently touched
its wings
with my finger

gently so as not
to make it
fly off
she was intense

gazing at my finger
the wings opening
and closing  
my finger

was a mere
breath away
from touching
her skin

the warmth
of her palms
I leaned in closer
could smell

apples or fresh air
and her dark eyes
turned on me
and I looked back

at the butterfly
and stroked its
wings again
it flapped

and flew off
and I watched it
go passed
her dark hair

her eyes following it
in the air
and I followed
her hair

the dark and straight
the opened necked blouse
the green skirt
isn't it beautiful?

she said
yes very much so
I said
gazing at

the line of her neck
the area
where her hair
and collar

didn't meet
the jawline
and she
was looking up

at the sky
where the butterfly
flittered amongst
nearby flowers

at the foot
of the Downs
so gentle their wings
she said

she imitated
a butterfly
with her hands
the thumbs

hooked together
flapping her hands
out and in
and looked at them

then at me
should I stroke
the wings?
I said

she smiled
flapping
her hands slowly
so I did

stroking slowly
and gently
the outer line
of palm

with my finger
and she gazed at me
then at my finger
her small tongue

at the corner
of her mouth
beyond her
the butterfly

flittered off
the white and yellow
exchanging
as it went away

my finger
moving up and down
then slowly
moving

like the butterfly
a little bit away.

After that
the only
thing she thought

mattered was
the sunlight
coming through

the tall trees
as you and
she lay on

your backs by
the large pond
listening

to birdsong
and the wind
coming through

the branches
and she there
full of life

breathing in
the sharp air
and she said

Van Gogh could
have captured
this morning

with the trees
and sunlight
and the way

the wind moves
through branches
and you said

but Renoir
despite his
arthritic

hands could have
captured your
young beauty

on canvas
somewhere off
a dog barked

a cow mooed
and your hand
like a crab

moved over
the green grass
and touched her

small warm hand
and she smiled
like da Vinci’s

painting of
the Mona
Lisa you’d

seen in that
old art book
in the school

library
tucked between
a battered

old atlas
and book of
poetry

which no one
ever read
no doubt the

pond’s still there
the sunlight
and the wind

but she’s not
she gone now
all silent

amongst the
peaceful dead.

Laid to rest,
stone in place,
legend chiselled
and name
and words
and such,
flowers
in place.

Laid to rest-
but not,
my son,
for us,
the memories too strong,
too recent ,
to put to sleep or rest.

Waves of it rush
against the shores of self,
digging in deep,
pushing heart
and sense aside,
raising the ghostly
images to sight.

Who spoke last?
Who conversed
in final hours?
How dark the ward.
I helped you
best I could.

Unknowing,
promised
of the morrow returning,
but then too late,
just the comatosed you
to greet, the last
drawn out day of demise.

Laid to rest,
stone in place,
words chiselled,
ashes encased,
buried, flowers,
prayers said.

You,
my son,
stoic by nature,
warrior to the core;
why does
the sun rise?
What was
it all for?

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

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

her dark hair
seemed aglow
and as I approached
she smiled

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

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

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

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

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

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

but he said
I could borrow it
ok
I said

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

for butterflies
she was
the butterfly beauty
in my eyes.

Her brother stopped
you in the high street
and said, Have you heard
about Judith? No, you

replied, thinking maybe
she’d divorced or won
the lottery or had another
child. Her brother hesitated

momentary then said, She
died of cancer. It seemed
as if he’d stabbed a knife
into your gut and twisted

the blade, all the memories
of you and she walking home
from school, arm in arm,
laughing, kissing, the lessons

of school gladly forgotten,
or sitting by the pond in summer,
the birds in the trees overhead,
she and you holding hands,

kissing lips to lips, those alone
moments, those long ago summers,
those dark wintery nights,
she captured in the car headlights,

you wanting her closer and all
those images flashed before your
eyes as her brother’s words sunk in,
he standing there, knowing even

after all this time how you and she
had once been lovers, childhood
days like shadows on a far away wall,
the trees swaying and her saying

back in that moonlit lane, I’m engaged
to another, after you had proposed
innocently some years later, once
school had done its worse. Now her

brother’s words had pushed their
way into your mind, her smile, those
eyes peering into yours, that I love
you gaze, long ago, in happier days.

Dennis said
that girl you talk to
that one with glasses
and smells of damp

I saw her in the girls' bog
well not in there
but heard more like
after she went in

and she was kind
of crying soft
Benedict listened
as they walked

the playground
(as such it was
a bombed out cellar
of some house

before the War)
why was she crying?
Benedict asked
search me

Dennis said
and kicked a ball
to some kids
over the way

then ran towards them
showing some skill
so Benedict walked up
the steps to the girl's bog

and heard the weeping sound
through the wooden door
what's up Ingrid?
he said softly

she paused
silence came
sniffling
she opened the door

and came out
red eyed behind
her specs
she wiped her nose

and pulled
the door shut
and took him
secretly

to some corner
out of sight
and lifted her
grey skirt

to show a thigh
wounded and bruised
which caught his eye
then she let

the skirt down
and wiped her hands
and blew her nose
he sighed

he knew her father's hand
had made its mark
and curse
she looked at him

her eyes larger
through the glasses
power
and stared anxious

and bit her lip
and wiped her nose
once more  
don't say a word

to anyone
she said in quiet tones
be worse for me
if others know

he sighed again
and made
his humble promise
to keep his word

here
he said
and took a wrapped
toffee from his pocket

and put it
in her ink stained
bony hand
she stared

then slowly
unwrapped it
and placed it
in her mouth

and began to chew
they walked off
and down the steps
to the playground floor

he talked
of the bow and arrow set
he bought
and how like

Robin Hood he looked
and would she be
his Maid Marian
when his game

again began?
she chewed slowly
her eyes settling
to a milder gaze

yes
she said
and could she borrow
his blue steel sword?

he smiled and agreed
and she talked
of her father's wrath
and row and hits

her mother's
blackened eye
and how he hit
she herself

as she hid
behind the door
having no reason why
or what it was for.

And Jane shows me
a sparrowhawk in the sky
hovering there
powerful and merciless

made to ****
like a flying
machine of death
so I'd read

in a book on birds
I'd bought
they ****
she says

but that's their nature
but there's beauty
there up there
in the air

I stand beside her
feeling her
presence near
her hand close

to mine
her dark hair
blowing in the wind
as we watch

the hawk hovering
there against
the wind's pull
and push

her dark eyes
holding on
to the sight
then it dives

and whoosh and zip
a bird has been snatched
and of and away
and we watch

both sad and thrilled
not by the killing
but by the show
of skill and flight

she looks at me
and says
glad I'm not
a small bird

waiting to be taken
like that
but as Daddy says
all things are

in God's hands
I say nothing
just want to hold
her hand and feel

her warmth
and skin and pulse
we walk on
across the field

her hand just
touching mine
skin on skin
the wind moving us

on like two birds
in flight
not towards a death
or dying

but hopefully
to a love
or deeper love
worth trying.

She would go
Wherever
She could get

Away from
The torment
Of it all;

The pounding
Of heartbeats;
The thumping

Hands; the words
Descending
Like harsh hawks

Upon her
Ears and heart;
Just a hush;

A held breath;
A touchy
Feel of her

Frail fingers;
Waiting for
The sight and

Sour sound
To open
The hiding

Place and all
Sanctuary
Then dissolved.

The hustle and bustle
of people everywhere
rushing by
in suits and skirts

and some in bowler hats
some in trilbys
and some hatless
running for a train

the steam engine
letting out steam
with a sudden gush
and me and Lydia

standing back a bit
to allow it all to happen
I kept her near me
protectively

the porters
pushing trolleys
with bags and suitcases
the smell

yes the smell
of the trains
and the crowds
the sun shining shyly

through the gaps
in walls and rooftop
and sky
we both looked there

watching the steam rise
the smoke ooze out
and Lydia said
so loud

can hardly hear
and I couldn't
for a moment
then the engine stopped

and it went quieter
for a moment
and I had just begun
to say

makes you feel DEAF
the last word echoed
around the nearby
part of the station

and she laughed
and people stared at us  
and one man
with a bowler hat

stared at us
and walked on with
brolley and case
and some woman

looked down
her nose at us
standing there
by the gates

waiting to get on
the platform
with our platform tickets
and the smell of the trains

seeping into our noses
and I loving it
wanting it more
the bite of it

and then
once the crowd
had gone in
the ticket collector

let us in
with a wave of his hand
and clipped our tickets
wish we could go

somewhere nice
on one of these trains
Lydia said
somewhere where

there's sunshine
and beaches and sand
and ice creams
and donkey rides

maybe one day
I said as we walked
along the platform
one day we will

you and I
and we followed
the big people
along the platform

and watched
as they got on
the train and closed
the carriage doors

and we sat on a seat
and waited
and watched
the steam rising upward

from the engine
the power
of the black engine
the driver looking out

at us
the stoker black faced
smiling
the guard waved

his green flag
and the train
huffed and puffed loudly
and he got on

and closed his door
and opened his window
on the train
and it moved

it chugged loudly
like some giant awaking
and we sat
and stared

and cheered it
on its way
that morning
that bright

sun
giving off
heat
day.

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.

On the one and only
Bright day she attempted
To escape from the locked
Ward of the small mental

Hospital in her short
Black dress and red slippers,
With her dull black hair, long,
Untidy and unbrushed,

She was roughly wrestled
To the ground of the long
Brightly lit corridor
Outside, by some burly

Hunk of a male nurse who
Smelt of ****, and as he
Pinned her down, she gazed up
Into his big brown eyes,

And saw the images
Of herself reflected
Like some broken doll or
Some beat up gangster’s moll.

The way Mrs Dillinger had
of making it
seem so simple

even that time
she said
come round
one afternoon

and we can discuss
your writing or politics
or whatever you like

but she didn't mention
that her husband
was out
or that she

was after your body
and wanted to hear
you read your work

only after
a good session
in her bed
but your pecker

wouldn't perform
wouldn't act
like some circus horse

and so of course
the politics
didn't get discussed
or your writing craft

maybe next time
she said
in any case

my husband
maybe back soon
and I don't want him
getting in

on the act
of discussing politics
or your art and craft

and so
you went away
your art
and craft intact

and your politics
undiscussed
and your pecker

breathing a sigh
of relief
well this time around
at least

you thought
the wilful
bashful beast.

Hemmingway's here now
leaning over my shoulder
reading this poem.

Look at that blue sky
she said

as you lay beside her
in the field

behind her house
and she pointed upward

and you followed her finger
as it indicated

the expanse of blue
and white clouds

and a few birds in flight
That cloud formation

seems like angels with harps
and that

she added pointing
further over

Looks like a horse’s head
you nodded and said

And that formation
over there

looks like Miss Brody’s ***
and she slapped your hand

and laughed
and her laughter

carried over the field
and there was that moment

you never wanted to end
like when she kissed

and her tongue protruded
into your mouth

or when she held you close
and you breathed in

her scent
borrowed from her mother

Just a dab
behind the ears

she had said
but that was years before

the cancer had her
but the memory of her

is still here
alive and undead.

And there was that small room with a bathroom attached just off Trafalgar Square said Netanya and it had been booked by Benedict to go to after the show in a theatre near Victoria Station and my husband at that time said where are you going? and I said to London to see a show and what time will you be back? Sunday afternoon I said youre staying over night? he said yes I said who are you going with? he asked thats my business I said and anyway when the Saturday came for me to go I met Benedict at the station he had been waiting anxiously in case I couldnt get away and I had a small overnight bag with my change of clothes in and wash stuff and he had a duffel bag and I said well here I am and he said wasnt sure youd get away and I said well he was suspicious but thats his problem and we got on the train to London and it was our first time together away from our local sites and he was looking at me and I think he was conscious for the first time of our age differences I was his senior by thirteen years and it didnt seemed to show in our own town but now out of the area it did seem to show a bit but I put it out of my head and hoped I was up to the challenge not having regular *** for some time and my husband at that time wasnt up to much at least not with me- he had had *** with anyone else between sixteen to sixty but me no it was sparse and anyway I was glad at the time thinking I didnt want to catch anything he may have caught from some ****- and we sat and talked and Benedict talked of Sartre and Camus but I didnt know who they were so just pretended I did and about existentialism and such words he went on about but it was him I watched not his words they swept over me like water in the sea and I was glad we were away and I thought briefly what the kids might be doing with me not around over the next day but theyd cope after all a woman has to live her life when she can and what chance would I have again and I recalled the first time I met Benedict and he was introduced to me at the workplace and I thought to myself hes a bit of all right and he smiled and I was kind of blown away but I knew he was having it off with another who had no luggage with her but then that blew away and I thought now is my chance and this was it and once the train entered Victoria Station and we got out and it seemed like a whole new world with so many people and we were just two people in sea of humanity and we saw the show at the time it said and sat and watched the show and I was aware of him beside me and thought about afterwards at the room he had booked and what it would be like and would I be able to perform after all it wasnt as though I had *** often and apart from my then husband and a boy back in the early 1950s I was not quite that expertise at *** or so I thought much as I liked what I had had but Benedict was younger and seemed quite a one with the girls and I thought it maybe a big let down and Id be shown to be just a woman in her middle age crisis stage but after the show which was quite good we got a taxi to the address Benedict had shown the driver and in no time we were there and we got in the door and the woman looked at us as we booked in and I thought She looked at me with a stern eye but we didnt care she showed us the room and left us to it shutting the door behind us and telling us if we wanted the gas fire on we would need to put 50p in the meter each time it went out so I found a 50p coin and put it in the slot and turned on the gas fire and it roared into life and we looked around the room and I looked into the bathroom and it had a  big deep bath and I thought that will come in handy later and I showed Benedict and he said we can bath together and I thought I have never bathed with anyone else before and he said theres always a first time for everything  then we looked at the bed and sat on it and bounced on it and it seemed all right if a little bit hard but it would do us Benedict said so what now? he said and I said well why waste time and began to undress first by taking off my coat and then my cardigan and he watched at first uncertain and I thought hes been put off about this after all and I got as far as my blouse when he took off his jacket and I watched him and he took off his tie and then we both seemed to race the other to undress first and it was like being a teenager again rather than a forty year old woman with a thirteen year younger man and I was right down to my underwear and bra and he was completely bare and stood there and then climbed into bed and waited for me and I took off what else I had on and we were both in bed naked and it was so strange so surreal and I couldnt believe I was actually there with him and he lay there beside me looking at me and he switched off the bedside lamp and we were in the semi-dark except for the flashing on and off of neon lights and street light outside in the street and then he kissed me and his hands were on my thighs and I was unsure if I was doing the right thing but then I though O to hell with it and kissed him more and we going at it quite strong and I didn't realise how much I never knew and how much I enjoyed what I was learning and once we had done we lay back and I looked at the room and felt him beside me and breathed in the air and him and my scent and the sounds of London out there and after that we were at it again and again until it seemed we were never going to stop and the we bathed together and I felt so young again and then we slept and had *** and bathed again and then it was morning and we left the room and the woman looked at us and I winked at her and she looked away and it was a day that day never to go from my mind never go go away.

Christina met you
on the playing field
after lunch in recess
the sun was warm

butterflies went by
clouds white puffs
moved over head
I saw you playing cricket

this morning
from the classroom window
during domestic science
Christina said

standing there
in your whites
your hands behind your back
looking bored

if I had known you were watching
I’d have waved
you said
you were not long batting

she said
after sitting down on the grass
pulling you down beside her
by the hand

no not my best performance
you said smiling
how good
is your best performance?

depends what I’m doing
you said
but not batting?
she asked

no not batting
you replied
looking at her hair
dark and well kempt

her lips parted just so
her white teeth showing
you kiss well
she said suddenly

do I?
you said
yes you do
but you could always do

with practice
yes I suppose so
you said watching Rolland
kicking ball with other boys

across the way
your sister said
you keep my photo
on the bedside cabinet

by your bed
Christina said
yes I do
not my best photo

but it’s the only one
I could sneak out
of the house
without the parents

noticing
Rolland scored a goal
passing the ball
by a kid between

two coats
do you kiss it at night?
she asked
kiss what?

the photo my photo?
only if my brother’s not looking
you said
but otherwise you do?

yes long as wet
you said
and she laughed
and crossed her legs

and you caught a glimpse
of her thigh
I’d like to take you home
for lunch again soon

if I can get my mother
in a good mood
not when she’s depressed
she said

that’d be good
you said
she leaned forward
and took your hand

and drew you near her
and kissed you
on the lips
girls nearby giggled

and you looked over at them
feeling shy but warmed
don’t mind them
she said

they’re just green
with envy
you looked away
from the girls

and saw Rolland
score another goal
and a cheer went up
but they were lost

from view
when Christina
with feverishly hot lips
kissed you.

All you think about is ***
said Chana

she lay there
on her white sofa
wine glass half full
in her plump hand

not so
I said
I think about
other things as well

such as?

Philosophical subjects
the way society works
how deep is the ocean
and ***
I said

in that order?
she asked

not always
in that order

but I bet ***
is near the top end
isn't it?
she sipped her wine
and gazed at me

more the bottom end
I said

the Mahler was playing
in the background
on her Hi-Fi

do you write poems
about ***?

sometimes
I said
I sipped whiskey

she turned onto her back
and sipped more wine
what's the best ***
you've ever had? she said

the Mahler symphony ended
and silence came

the record's done
I said

what do you want now?
she said

how about the Delius
I brought you?

she sighed
and went to the Hi-Fi
and took off the Mahler
and put on the Delius LP
and then went back
to the sofa
and lay down again

is that all right?

her white
plump thighs spread

I liked how
the Delius began
soft and open
the flutes taking
the melody

sure
I said

there was a dimple
on her chin
and her blue eyes
were wide as oceans

all you think about is ***
she said

I gazed out
of the window
at the darkening night

I guess so
I said
I guess you're right.

Yochana says she plays
beautiful music
but I have no way

of knowing unless
she plays for me  
so we get

to the music room
in school before
Miss G arrives

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

some classic stuff
her thin fingers
going over

the keyboard
with ease
making beautiful music

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

taking in the music
looking up
the corridor

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

her hands moving
back and forth
visible then invisible

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

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

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

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

and dissolve
taking in Yochana's
dark hair

and slim waist
and the remembered kiss
waiting for the tune

to stop
and the arrival
of old Miss.

No matter how much you try,
You can still hear your baby cry.

The doctors and nurses
Fussed about, gave advice,
Gave cold comfort words that
Fell from you like dying birds.

Maybe you imagine your baby
Lived, that secretly they stole her
And took to give to some other
****** up drained out mother.

You dream you have her in your
Arms and she comes to life with
A cough and splutter and opens
Blue eyes; her small lips wanting
To **** the dried up dugs, seeking
The absent milk, the warmth of hold.

Then you wake up with tired eyes
To dark dawn feeling the biting cold.

Some nights you feel her about drop,
The ghostly babe, and crouching by a
Wall, wait and feel the phantom pain.

Men passing by think you want to ****,
But all you want is love and baby back.

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.

What are you reading?
Atara asked.

Book on Schopenhauer,
I said.

Dull reading.

Depends on what you like.

She sipped her coke,
her eyes studying
the cover of the book.
Is that him?

Yes, old photograph.

She looked at me.
Why do you read
such dull books?

Maybe I'm a dull guy.

She smiled.
Not last night.

I closed the book
and laid it
on the table.
I sipped my beer.

Does he talk
about ***?
She asked.

Not that I’ve read
so far.

If a book doesn't mention ***
it isn't worth reading.

Maybe I should read Freud.

Why read?

I looked at the waiter
passing the table,
his clipped moustache,
his deep eyes.  

You read,
I said,
not heavy stuff,
but you do read.

I like my books
like I like my men:
not too deep and fun.

I said nothing
about my books
and women.

She didn't have
the depth
and she taught me
nothing,
although
that session
in the bathroom
had insight.

The way she had it
right down
to a fine art,
the subtleness
of her limbs,
her gyrations,
her lips and tongue.

What now?
She asked.
I fancy a walk
on the beach,
catch some sun.

You go,
I said,
I want to chill out
with a cold beer
and watch life go by.

She pulled a face sulkily,
but went off,
her hips doing
that thing they did
when she was annoyed.

I watched her go,
sipped the beer,
icy cold
like I enjoyed.

The view was good from the hotel window the beach the skyline the hotel area with palm trees placed here and there and the swimming pool and the people around it some lying in sunbeds or in the pool swimming or standing talking one or two walking around in bathing trunks or bikinis Benedict stared down at the girls measured with his eyes sizes and heights and age yes that was important some looked younger than they were some were aged but didnt look so from where he stood what you looking at? Abela asked from the bed lowering the book shed been reading making the most of the scenery he replied dont get this view where we live quite picturesque isnt it she said better than the postcard view in the brochure he watched one of the girls walk to the edge of the pool stretch her arms out and dive into the water and splash she resurfaced shaking water from her head like a dog her hair flowing about her head come back to bed Abela said you need to rest before our evening out into town and you know how tired you get unless youve rested well he watched the girl pull herself out of the water her bulbs visible as she moved forward her thighs were fine and a nice **** tight he thought as she turned towards the pool again come on Abela said the view cant be that good ok he said turning away from the window as the girl dived in again he walked back to the bed and lay beside Abela who had the book in her hand and before her face reading he lay there his head on a pillow staring at the ceiling and the fan going slowly around and around Im here now he said how about it? about what? she said lowering the book us now you know relaxing after a bit of exercise what exercise? she asked the kind of exercise that we do in unison he said if you mean *** the answer is no not now Im not in the mood besides Im at an interesting part of the book he sighed and looked at the fan again you must rest she said take a chance to sleep then maybe after out evening out we could exercise she said putting the book in front of her shutting him out he closed his eyes breathed in the scent of her body the sense of her beside him the slight movement of her body vibrating in the bed as he lay the first time hed had *** with her was by surprise not planned one of those things that happened when it didnt seem on the cards theyd just closed up shop after the last customer and had totalled up the till and she went up stairs to make sure no customer had been left in but it was empty the beds and bedroom furniture was as it should be except Benedict was laying on one of the beds by the window what you doing? she asked trying out the bed he replied and? what's it like? she asked come and try he said patting the space beside him on the bed she walked over to the bed and looked at him Ive not got time for testing beds now she said chill out he said patting the bed she sighed and lay beside him on the bed she lay back and felt the mattress beneath her and bounced a little seems good she said running a hand along the surface he turned and faced her she looked around at him it's good she said wish I could afford to buy it and not just sell it need to have a honest feel about things here he said studying her features honest feelings? she said well he said most people buy a bed to sleep in but also to make love in so? she said well how can we say its good bed when we dont know what its like to have *** in? we just say it she said they take our word for it dishonesty at the extreme he said thats business she said she turned to face him they stared at each other he taking in her bright eyes and snub nose and round chin and jawline she took in his hazel eyes moustache and quiff of brown hair and that smiling eyes we must go she said need we? he said yes Ive got to get home as Im out tonight she said who with? he asked friends of mine from college and school he smiled youre quite a beauty Ive not noticed before just how beautiful you are she looked away from him and looked at her wristwatch look its getting on she said we could try the bed out he said we have tried it out she said not love making we havent he said are you suggesting we have *** here now? she said her eyes wide I havent suggested anything he said just thought what kind of girl do you think I am? she said never gave it a thought what kind of girl you were he said well Im not the kind of girl to have *** just like that she said and saying that Im beautiful wont wash with me they lay looking at each other he gazing at her eyes blue or green he couldnt decide she looked at him there that brown quiff of hair and how could she come up here the next day and not see them on the bed having ***? it wasnt on but she lay there sensing an urge opening within her like small bud widening as if water had touched and brought to life but she she could she? she tried to push it from her thoughts the image of them there having *** and he was laying there gazing at her and o why did he have to suggest such a thing she lay on her back and said the bed seems so good for sleeping on seems a shame not to know what its like to have *** on doesnt it? my sentiments too he said she got off the bed and began to undress and he after watching for a few moments began to undress too the upstairs furniture room now seemed transformed seemed smaller the window above the bed showed late afternoon sky a few sounds outside of passing traffic  she had undressed completely he had also following her example got to do it right she said no clothes makes it seem more natural as if it were an experiment rather than a sordid affair he looked at her standing by the bed hed not seen her like that before hed only imagined her like that in the few moments at work when not busy now there she was the small but tight **** the dark brush the thighs shall we? she said and lay down in the bed he lay there beside her she put a hand on his chest and he opened his eyes and she said see you needed that rest now we can get ready to go out he rubbed his eyes as she got up from the bed but he kept the image of her inside his head.

Jeanette was by
the wire fence
leaning against it
her hands

in front of her
resting one
on the other
she watched me

as I came out
of the school door
leading from the side
onto the sports field

her friend Angela
the blonde girl
had gone home
for lunch

why did you kiss me
like that?
she asked
as I went by her

your cheek
was tempting me
I said
so I kissed it

you should have
at least asked
she said
I will next time

I said
looking at her
taking in
her thin frame

and arms
what makes you think
there will be
a next time?

she said
her eyes were dark
like small currents
in cream dishes

I feel lucky
I said smiling
she didn’t smile back
you hang around

with that Rolland boy
don't you?
she said
yes he's a friend

I said
I don't like him
she said
he doesn't like you

much either
I said
he says
you're a titless wonder

she blushed
and looked away
but I like you
I think you have

a certain class
I mean the way you
sit there listening
to all that classical stuff

Miss Graham plays
to us in lessons
while we
are bored brainless

you sit there
in another world
actually enjoying it
she looked at me

I love Beethoven
she said
his music moves me
her eyes settled on me

she played with her fingers
but you ought
to have asked
before kissing

she said
have you told anyone
I kissed you?
no of course not

she said
shame it might do
some good
I said

in what way?
she said
other kids might not
think you so stuffy

and snobbish
I said
she looked
at her well heeled shoes

and white socks
it was only a peck
she said
not a real kiss

it was lips
on cheek skin
I said
wet and warm

she said shyly
there you go
I said
BENNY

Rolland called out
from the sports field
COME ON FOOTIE
best go

I said
see you in class
and I ran off
towards Rolland

and other boys
kicking a ball
maybe a kiss tomorrow
she had said

as I went off
up on the grass
I nodded
and turned away

the sky had brightened
blue skies
had moved off
the dull of grey.

Shamira had just left work
she was going to Florence
for the week with friends
and Baruch after seeing her go

opened up her locker door
and took out
her light blue
nursing overall

and held it to his cheek
then smelt it
tried to sense her perfume
feel her presence still there

the warmth of her body lingering
he found light brown hair
on the collar
and carefully detached it

and twiddled it around
between fingers
and held it up
to the light

then placed it
in a white tissue
and put it in his pocket
and put the nursing overall

away in the locker
and leaned
against the wall
thinking of her just gone

and not to see her again
for a week
not to hear her voice
or see her eyes

or feel her nearness
that evening he went
to the public bar
she frequented

and sat drinking alone
conjuring up
where she used to sit
and imagined

seeing her near by
or at the table
across the room
listening to the piped music

feeling the loneliness
creep in
so went home
and wrapped

the strand of hair
and put it in a small box
and let it lay there  
a small part of her

near by
a tiny particle
of what she was there
light brown hair

the following week
he wrote her
a letter every day
and posted it

to her home address
even though he knew
she was away in Florence
telling her how much

he loved her
and missed her
and when she returned
how they could go out

and where
and each day the letter
told more
and released more feelings

and when he rang her
the day she returned home
she said
I never expected

so many letters
or such feelings
and she talked of Florence
and where she'd been

and what she saw
and with whom
and what they did
and o

she said
I've got you
this postcard
and you'll love it

and so she went on
and he listening
on the phone
just wanted her

to be there
and have her all alone.

How long does it take
by train to Edinburgh?
Lydia said
her father held in

a smile-he was sober
so playful-
about 6 hours or so
he replied

why are you
going to Scotland?
and with whom?
Lydia said

not yet
I'm just 9 years old
but maybe when I'm older
she hesitated

looking at her father
at his sober blue eyes
and said
Benny probably

go with Benny
her father still held
back the smile
o Benny

the kid from upstairs
in the flats?
she nodded
the kid who you go

to the train stations with?
she nodded
she had her thin hands
behind her back

her fingers crossed
we went
to Kings Cross
station today

she said quietly
Kings Cross?
that's quite a journey
her father said

you two going to elope?
she frowned
elope?
what does that mean?

she asked
means you're going
to run off
and secretly marry

her mother said tiredly
from the sink
where she was
washing clothes

her father smiled
I can't marry anyone
I'm just 9 years old
she said

but when you're ready Lydia
you can get maybe
a free ride
as I am a railway worker

her father said
grinning
leaning back
in his chair

she liked it
when her dad
was sober
he was more fun

and kind
her father
laughed loudly
but she didn't mind.

Her father jokes
all through supper,
calls her
his frumpy pie;

her sister giggles,
the slim one
with the beauty
found in bottles

and jars.
Elaine knows
she's frumpy,
knows she lacks

her sister's looks,
her sister’s flair,
the smoothness
of her sister's hair.

She eats slow,
in deep thought,
nibbling not eating,
her mother says,

her voice whining
over the table
towards her
like nuclear fallout

of dull dust.  
She daren't tell them
John had kissed her lips
nor where his hand

had sort to go;
she stopped him,
but didn't want to,
though.

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.

The city reminded her
Of a room full of dark flies;
The constant sound of buzzing;
The frightening hitting of

Bodies against the sides; but
Something more disturbing was
Brought to mind: the memory
Of Mr Danzinki who

Died in a room up on Eastside,
And no one found him for months
On end, and the flies got in
And laid their seeds, and they came

To fruition and buzzed in
Turn, and when his rescuers
Opened the door of the room,
There was that awful smell of

Decomposition, and a
Swarm of flies, and the image
That someone told her as a
Child of the sickening find,

Took up residence in her
Mind and stayed there, and somehow
Related to the city, and
The whole buzz and noise of the

Place, and maybe some dying
Corpse down there in the moving
Throng, and a sense of death and
Dying in the city's air.

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.

We walked down
Deacon Way
(had to get her away
from her home

and her old man
and his Bible bashing)
it was after school
and tea

and the sky was blue
but becoming grey
she tied her long
blonde hair

into a pony tail
with a red ribbon
but what will
my father say

when he finds
that I’ve gone out?
Fay said
say you needed the air

say the nuns said
you had to appreciate
the evening air
that God made

I said
he knows the nuns
will not have
said that

he keeps in touch
what they say
and how
I am behaving

at school
she said
and how do you
behave at school?

I asked
I do my best to be good
she said
but they are so picky

you have not said
your Pater Noster
with due reference
or you have said

the Ave too quickly  
who's the Pater Noster?
I asked
the Lord's Prayer

she said
and the Ave
is the Hail Mary
I see

I said
although I didn't see
we came back
to the New Kent Road

and stood
by the hairdressers
on the corner
where now?

she asked
I ought to get back
Father will be looking
over the balcony for me

how about a bag of chips?
I said
Father says chips
are bad for you

make you fat
she said
but they're good
fill you up

if you're hungry
I said
best not
she said

I must go back
he'll get so angry
ok
I said

so we crossed the road
and walked down
Meadow Row
she looked anxious

I looked at her
sideways on
her blue eyes
blonde hair

and that look
in her features
of sad despair.

Ann has long
brown hair
and a wide spam
of forehead
and deep eyes.

She's Jimi's sister;
he's my best friend,
she has a temper
like a wild horse
and I avoid her
when she's moody.

She opens the door
to her parent's flat.

Yes?

Is Jimi home?

He's out,
gone with Dad
for a while.

When will he
be back?
I ask.

When he arrives.

I look pass her shoulder;
look for her mother.

Can I come in?
Or do you
want to come out
and go to
the bomb site
or park?

What for?
She looks at me;
hands on her hips.

Something to do,
something to pass
the time.

She looks at my clothes
and says:
do you have only
the one pair of jeans?

No, but I like
theses best.

What’s to do
on the bomb site?

Light a fire;
pick small stones
for my catapult;
play cowboys
and bad guys?

Have you got
a spare gun?
I'm not just being
a silly saloon girl;
I want a gun
to blast
the baddies away.

I pull out one
of my 6-shooters
from my S belt;
here have this one;
I hand her a gun.

She holds it
in her hands
and spins it
round her
plumpish finger.

Ok, but I’m
Annie Oakley.

Sure, you be her,
and I’ll be
Wyatt Earp.

So I wait until
she's got her
shoes on
and her cardigan
with flowers on.

We go through
the Square
and down the *****.

She rides her
brown horse
(so she says)
I ride my black horse
across Rockingham Street,
gun at the ready
for the baddies
we might meet.

All
They found

Of Private Fry
Was one solitary blue eye

Lying in the mud
Of the trench

Staring up
At the gun smoke

Sky.

Baruch sat with Fay
on top of the concrete
bomb shelter
on the grass area

of Banks House
in early evening
looking skyward
taking in the stars

sprinkled in the dark
blue sheet of sky
and the moon quartered
as if someone

had taken a slice
out of it like cheese
the coal wharf
was closed up

the shops shut
a few stragglers walked
to the Duke of Wellington
for a drink

deserved or not
steam trains
still went over
the railway bridge

over Rockingham Street
disturbing the air
Daddy said
Jews killed Jesus

Fay said
looking side ways
at Baruch beside her
is that true?

I think the Romans
did the killing
the Jews kind of
egged them on

I suppose
Baruch said
but Jesus himself
was a Jew

he added
watching a bat
flap across the sky
catching his eye

was he?
she said frowning
he doesn't look Jewish
in the picture

in my Bible
she said
he looks
kind of unJewish

Baruch smiled
I guess they painted
the Jewishness
out of him

he said
she lay back
on the shelter roof
her hands resting

on her stomach
looking at the sky
Baruch lay beside her
the density of space

is fascinating
he said
kind of
makes you wonder

how far in it goes and on
Heaven is out there
Daddy said
Fay suggested shyly

beyond the deep dark
Baruch watched
another bat
flap by

the light of stars
reaches us
long after the star
has burnt out

and died
he said
it's like seeing
ghost stars

she laughed
and reached
for his hand
really?

she said
sure are
stars are light years away
their light takes

many years
to reach us
she held his hand
it felt warm

in the evening air
the light
from the nearest star
left there

when we
were 8 years old
and now we're 12
and seeing it

here and now
she liked to feel
his hand and skin
she dismissed

what her father said
that to touch
a Jew
was a deadly sin.

How are things
on your side
of the fence or curtain,
my son?

I think of you
quite often
as well you know
I guess.

Do you visit me
as I sleep or sit
at my PC
tapping in my words
and you stand there
as you used to do
gazing over
my shoulder
with your silent presence?

When I visit your grave
to bring flowers
or stand and talk
are you there
as I stand and stare?

I think your are
and when I walk away
back along the path
between graves
having sighed
and secretly cried
I imagine you
walking there
by my side.

On the coach
between Paris and Tours
Mamie was seated
next to you

her head
of frizzy hair
against your shoulder
her eyes closed

her mouth ajar
fish like
the valley between
her small **** visible

as she lay there
rocking slight
to the coach’s motion
music coming through

the radio
some Mozart piece
you looked
at her hands

in her lap
small and curled
like sleeping *****
her bare arms

sans hair but freckled
and you looked at her
and sensed her head
against you

knowing some brain
buzzed beneath
her frizzy mane
thoughts exploded there  

were explored
or put aside
sleep be drugged
like some child

in fairy land maybe
you studied her knees
just visible
where her

red skirt rose
flesh on flesh
how through Paris
in the coach

she had pulled
your hand
into her lap
held it there

the pulse of her
beating through
her garden of Eden
beneath the cloth

then the Mozart
piece ended
and Beethoven began
thunderous and loud

pushing through
the speakers
stirring Mamie
beside you

her lips moving
mouthing words
her hands opening out
the palms upright

you looked beyond her
at the passing scenes
of France at night.

The depression moves in on her
Like a dark fog. It seems to ****
All interest in life and events
From her mind so that she sits
And stares from the window like

One dying slowly over the month.
Outwardly she seems quite fine.
Little quiet perhaps. Not her usual self.
None of her unstoppable laughter and joy.
She hates it when the fog comes.

The curtains drawn in her mind.
The deep depression *******.
There is the same view from the window.
Trees and lawn and the bird table unattended.
Snow had fallen last time. She remembers

The white blanket over everything.
The bird table like a white statue
Standing still unattended. The sky grey
And ****** of all interest. Her lover
Such as he is still wanted his ***.

She performed dully. No passion.
Nothing touched her or reached in
And moved her. Her lover did his thing
And finished. He turned over and snored.
The inner darkness invades each aspect

Of her being. Even her baby’s cry
Doesn’t move or stir her. She hears it
Like one hearing a far away thunder
And possible storm. Even her beloved
Picasso print fails to move her.

Music of Mahler pushes out
From the nearby shore of the CD player
And slides over her like a chilling wave.
There are voices speaking. Someone
She feels walks on her grave.

Milka's mother
makes me
a cup of tea
as I wait for Milka
downstairs.

She'll not be long,
her mother says,
although don't
hold your breath,
Benny,
she adds,
smiling.

I like her smile;
it's like warm milk
of a motherly kind.

I sip the tea,
looking as her mother
walks from the sink
to the cupboard;
her plump body
cosy as a cat's
snuggled up close,
her backside swaying
like waves of water.

She doesn't deserve you,
her mother says,
giving me
a brief glance,
you are so patient
with her,
waiting for her,
doing things for her.

I recall Milka
dressing madly,
after the last
*** episode,
and her mother
downstairs,
having returned
from shopping early,
Milka flushed,
and I,
well, I was
in a trance,
dressing as fast
as I could,
thinking of reasons
to be in Milka's room.  

Would you like something
with the tea?
The mother asks,
looking at me,
her eyes searching me.

I try not to say
what's on my mind
and say,
a biscuit would be nice.

She smiles and goes
and fetches the biscuit tin
and opens it for me.

Help yourself,
she says.

She has very nice *******,
I note,
not staring,
but noticing as
she nears me.

I nibble and sip.

Milka is upstairs
getting ready
to go out,
taking her time,
while her mother
seduces me,
unwittingly.

I smile.

Is that,
I muse,
a crime?

The best is yet to come, he’d said. But you
Think that’s down the drain now after last night.
Yet it started all right, him in a good
Mood, the bottle of wine, the food prepared,

The music low, the right week, the two kids
Away. You’d even put on the new dress
he’d bought, bright red, but a little short, but
He didn’t mind, he said it made you look

Sexier and more desirable. You
Never brought up your husband’s demise last
Year, you mentioned it on the first date, he
Just said, too bad, nothing more. You’d put your

Late husband’s photo in the drawer out of
Sight. After the wine and meal and warm shared
Conversation on the sofa and hot
Kisses and holds, you both transferred to the

Bedroom and quickly undressed and made love.
Or rather you didn’t, at least not how
You thought of it before, he treated you
Like some downtown *****, even beat you up

Once or twice or more leaving you ******,
Soaked and ******. The best is yet to come, he’d
Said the first time you met and he normal
And kind and quite the regular guy. That

Was before last night and the awful ***,
The split lip and black eye. You stare out of
The window at the rising day and the
Sunlight and think of better days before

Last night and the fall from grace. No more of
That, no more of him, no more of that ****.
You won’t see him anymore, the *******
You don’t care for him no more, not one bit.

I slide the silver painted six shooter
into the holster on my right hand side.
I stand there arm arched, hand ready
to go for the gun. I push my cowboy

hat back away from my cool forehead.
The bad guys are circling me. Today
I’m Wyatt Earp, the day before I was
Bill Hickok, shot in the back while

playing cards with some blonde ******.  
One of the bad guys goes for his gun,
I go for my gun before his is out of
his holster, I’ve got him between the

eyes, then the other before he can say:
What the heck, then the other before
his gun reaches to his eye. I blow along
the barrel as they do in films, put it

back in my holster. My mother irons
clothes in the other room. My sister
plays with dolls, in the long hallway.
None heard the gunshots inside my head;

all bad guys are dead.   I light up a
thin sweet cigarette and light it on an
imaginary match struck on the wall.  
Half hour later I see Ingrid on the

balcony. She talks of going to the
park to go on the swings and slide.
She has her brown hair held in place
with hair clips, mild buckteeth, brown

gravy eyes gaze at me. What you been
doing? she asks. Cleaning up the West.
West what? She says. Wild West, I reply.
She nods, uncertain, uninterested. Shot

three baddies. Bang, bang, bang. I push
back my thumb and point *******.
I am Wyatt Earp today. You were Bill
Hickok yesterday, she says, looking at

my ******* aiming at her narrow chest.
What happened to Hickok? She asks.
He 's dead. Oh, she mouths.  I put my
fingers away in my trouser pocket. Swings?

She says. I guess. So we walk off together
down the stairs, she wearing a red flowery
dress, white ankle socks, black plimsolls.
I look down the stairs well for any bad guys

lurking, gun ready in my trouser pocket,
Bowie knife in the belt around my waist.
She talks of a new skipping rope her mother
has bought her, I see no one lurking, no baddies

waiting with guns out. We walk through the
Square, out in the open, my ******* posed
for action, my Bowie knife ready to throw,
off we walk towards the park we slowly go.

The last time Benedict
saw his mother
she was lying
in a hospital bed,
eyes closed, mouth
slightly open, dead.
He'd been told by a nurse
over the phone of her demise,
the voice matter of factly
pronounced the words,
the meaning came in later.

He thought of her, whom
he'd seen the evening before,
the last smile and wave
she'd given, although held
by dementia she seemed
aware he( or someone) was there.

Now she had gone, moved
to a spirit world he assumed
or hoped, although he sensed
her loss, like a ripping apart
and smash grab of his heart.

He had, he recalled, kissed
her forehead the last time
that evening prior, the skin
cool, wrinkled less, seeming
at rest. 91 years old was not
a bad innings he supposed,
holding onto that final image
of the previous evening, not
the final one where her body
lay deserted, the emptied shell,
that usual sickly hospital smell.

No, he wanted the last image
to be of her smiling and waving,
not drowning sickly, but saying
a goodbye, seeing half-blindly,
that look in her eye, seeming
to say: we all come, all must die.

He still feels the loss, the empty
place in his heart, the vacant lot,
but the memories cram into the little
boxes in his brain, a holding on,
till, hopefully, happier, they meet again.

Thought you weren't
going to come
Helen said
she stood by Baldy's

grocer shop
her thick lens glasses
were smeared
by recent rain

her plaited hair matted
had chores to do
at home
you said

you looked at the sky
guess you got caught
in the last downfall
you said

she nodded
brushing raindrops
off her green raincoat
with her small hands

then wiped
her smeary glasses
with damp fingers
where are we going?

she asked
you looked at her
standing there
her wet features

and clothes
raindrops falling
from her nose
best go back

to your place
to get out
of your wet clothes
you said

don't matter
she said
it does
you said

you'll catch a death
she looked at you
I’ll dry
she said

no
you said
best go home
your mother

will let you changed
out of the wet things
while I wait
she pulled a face

OK
she said
so you both walked back
to her place

she talked
of her mother's
chesty cough
and you talked

of the silver looking
6 shooter
your old man
picked up

at some junk shop
once you got
to her home
her mother moaned

but let her changed
out of the wet clothes  
and said to you
want a cuppa?

sure
you said
and so she poured you
a mug of tea

and a biscuit
and after while
she ironed some clothes
she asked about

your mother and her legs
and if
they were any better
no

you said
they' re just as bad
the tea was sweet
and milky

but you drank it
and nibbled the biscuit
and watched her iron
her plump hands

at work
her huge bust
swaying
to her motion

then Helen
came into the room
in dry clothes
her hair unplaited

and hanging
in long strands
you look
like a drowned rat

her mother said
I should wait here
if I were you
until the rain stops

Helen looked at you
then at her mother
ok
she said

I can show Benedict
my doll collection
you smiled
it could be worse

you thought
drinking your sweet tea
worse things
could happen to me.

After you'd got on
the school bus
and sat down

in one of the side seats
Jane said
who did you fight with

in the playground
lunchtime?
Woolgar

you said
he pushed me over
against the wire fence

and I got up
and went for him
she looked disappointed

I didn’t think
you could be violent
she said

I’m not usually
but it was an automatic
response to being

pushed over
you said
my daddy said

one should turn
the other cheek
especially if you’re a Christian

she said softly
the school bus
started up

and took off down
the school drive
sorry

you said
but the creep
got under my skin

and if you let them
get away with it once
they’ll always do it

she gazed at you
then out
of the window

at the passing shops
and buildings
of the town

were you watching?
you asked
yes I saw you

from the girl’s playground
she muttered
not looking round

guess it looked
kind of bad
yes it did

she turned
and looked at you
but at least

you don’t do it
all the time
she said

and touched
your hand
with hers

and you felt sad
inside that you’d
made her feel like that

and you saw
how lovely her
dark eyes were

how there seemed
to be a mini universe
in them with their own

galaxies and stars
and moons
next time I’ll think twice

you said
before hitting
the other boy

she nodded
and smiled
and her hand

squeezed yours
her skin soft and warm
her hair black

and drawn back
into a ponytail
sitting there

beside you
her grey school skirt
and jumper

and white blouse
the neck open
the sight

of her throat
and you wanting
to kiss but not doing so

her neck
her skin
the feel

of her hair
against your cheek
sometimes

you thought
we can’t have
what we seek.

We camped outside Kiel
and Dalya was not
at all happy
sharing her tent
with the leather wearing
Yank girl
who joined us in Hamburg

I was in the base canteen
drinking coffee and smoking
Dalya sat opposite me
having bought
a bowl of cereals and coffee

that's all I need
on this holiday
a Yank who never stops talking
she said

what's she talk about?
I asked

men and men
and who she's seen
and who she's
had in bed and how
and most of the time
chewing gun

I inhaled
and thought of how
she looked quite pretty
when angry
it seemed
to brighten her up
maybe she'll grow on you

I don't want her
to grow on me
I want her to go
elsewhere
why can't she share
with the girl from Yorkshire
she has a big mouth too
they’d be good together
Dalya moaned

I looked at her
tight curled dark hair
her dark blue eyes
the way her  mouth moved
as she spoke
I sipped coffee

plus she makes
the mini-bus
more crowded
10 of us
squashed together

I didn't mind
too much
as I was next to Dalya
and she was closer
her perfume almost
oozing on to me
as we drove along
through Germany

chill out
I said
enjoy the holiday

she pouted her lips
and took a cigarette
I offered and lit it
with my red cigarette lighter

all right for you
sharing with the Aussie
bet he doesn't
talk about ***
all the time
or who with

no mostly
about beer and rugby
I said
(he did talk about girls
but I never told her
about that)

typical
she said
wished I never came

what about me?
don't you like me either?

she exhaled
you're all right
she said
but I don't share at tent
with you

no shame
I said

she said nothing
but sipped her coffee
and inhaled her cigarette

I looked at her
sitting there
with her dark
blue eyes
and tight dark
curly hair.

Gale shows me
a medal
in the palm
of his hand

circular
discoloured
old ribbon

my granddad’s
he tells me
he left it
in his will
it's mine now

can I hold?
I ask him

sure you can

I hold it
in my palm
it's warm now
where his skin
has warmed it

King George V
image there
an old guy
grey bearded

your granddad?
I ask him
my finger pointing
at the guy

that's the King
at the time
he tells me
though Granddad
was like that
to look at

I hand him
the medal

he holds it
in his palm

the school bell
rings loudly
the playground
then erupts
then settles
into lines

Gale pockets
the medal
in the dark
sweaty warmth
of his thigh

out of sight
of my eye.

The large woman
Who each day took
Up two seats on

The bus, while she
Was listening
To her mp

3player and
Chewing boiled sweets,
And dreaming of

Meeting and then
Marrying her
Mr Right, and

Looking straight out
Ahead at Max,
Giving him the

Eye, smiling and
Revealing her
Decaying teeth,

Has died; and none
Will attend her
Funeral at

Half noon today,
Except the priest
And the thin dame

Upstairs in the
Large woman’s down
Town apartment,

Who had borrowed
Sugar many
Times, but never

Brought it back and
Maybe Mr
Right who lived just

Across the hall
With his mother
And who dreamed of

The large woman
And he making
Love together.

Here's Odense
Dalya says
looks OK

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

an hour
and be back
the driver
informs us

so we all
go our ways

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

she tells you
about hers

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

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

what details?
what's she say?

can't tell you
Dalya says

you spoilsport

it's not that

tell me then

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

she did say
something odd
I remember
Dalya says

what was that?

M&S;

M&S;

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

Dalya sips
more coffee

I give her
my famous
Elvis smile

what's that for?
she asks me

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

Dalya sits
open mouthed

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

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

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

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

Dalya sips
her coffee
in silence
in deep thought

I sip mine
savouring
each mouthful

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

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.

Sonya loved Paris
loved the cafés
the streets
the Tower

the people
the ideas
the artists  
and we stood on a bridge

looking
at the river below
she dressed
in that pink dress

with patterns
her blonde hair
in a pony tail
her blue eyes

drinking in
the scene  
we'd just been
to the art gallery

and studied
the Impressionist painters
Monet is my favourite
she said

I could drink him in
all day
the way he paints
soothes me

and at the same time
stirs me up
I was dressed
in pink flared trousers

and white
open necked shirt
with the sleeves
rolled up

I like Van Gogh best
I said
his passion touches me
we moved off the bridge

looking for a café
for a coffee
Vincent drove himself mad
with his search

for truth
she said
too uptight for me
too deep and dark

we found a café
and sat outside
and ordered two coffees
we lit cigarettes

and smoked
and talked more
she about Kierkegaard
the philosopher

and Either/Or
I sat watching her
taking in her hair
the way

she moved her jaw
as she talked
the fine lips
her eyes

that Vincent
would have loved
and how
the night before

we lay in bed
looking out the open window
at the Parisian sky
and the moon

and us and ***
and wanted then
to be back there
all too soon.

Juliette drags the brush
through her hair you have
to brush it at least one
hundred times her mother

had said years ago and say
a prayer each time you get
it through and maybe God
will bless you and as she sits

and brushes her hair she
remembers her mother standing
over her when she was a child
and the hair was as long then

as it is now and oh God she
says how I hated it the knots
and tangles and the number of
times I used to cry each time

she pauses in front of the mirror
the brush held mid air sometimes
when she brushes her hair and
stares in the mirror she sees him

there looking at her as he did back
then watching her every move
his dark eyes greedily drinking
her in and once he placed his

hands around her waist and kissed
her neck how she cringed his spittle
still there her uncle his breath his
hands touching always when she

was alone and once when *******
he came in and stared and said he
thought she was becoming a beautiful
young girl now she brushes her hair

again the brush stiff and heavy gripped
in her hand and as she stares into the
mirror heavy with times and care she
thinks she sees him still staring still there.

Always read the small print, his father said,
That’s how they catch you out those bums,

They’ll hide things away in the small print
So you don’t notice the conditions, don’t

See how things apply which could affect
You and make it awkward for you, and

Remember son, his father went on, they’re
Always in it for the money, always out for

The profit, and his father sat back in his
Armchair and looked at his wife ironing

Over in the corner, and said, mind you get
All the creases out; I hate it when you leave

Creases in the **** sleeves, and his wife just
Looked at him and shook her head and sighed,

Knowing something within their outmoded
Love and overripe marriage had long ago died.