Liz put the plate
on the table.

I watched.

First day, new job.

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

Take turns,
yer idjits,
she said.

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

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

Not so much
fun though,
she replied.

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

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

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

Is there nothing else?
I asked.

Later,
she said,
give it to
them later.

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

Think you'll
like the job?
Liz asked.

I shrugged
my shoulders.

Don't know.

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

Hours past.

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

Some days after school
having slipped by her mother’s vision

she met you in the back woods
by the pool

and you were there
in the your tee shirt and jeans

and she stood there
for a moment

in her blouse and skirt
and you stared at each other

taking in the beauty
you saw there

enjoying the moment
the big now

shutting out the bird song
the rabbits by the trees

the far off sound of traffic
and she broke out and said

had a job get by her scanner eyes
had to slip out

before she gave out the chores
and she came over to you

standing there
and stood real close

so that you could sense her body
just about touching yours

her perfume teasing
your nostrils

stirring your body
and then she closed her eyes

and kissed your lips
and it was like

a first day of creation
as if God had said

there you go
feel the love

sense the glow
and you did

and it seemed an eternity
but was merely minutes

glued and touched
and wet and warm

then you sensed
the rain coming

and distant storm
and then the raindrops

hit the pool like small bullets
and grabbing her hand

you ran through the trees
away from the pool

carrying the memory of a kiss
and a bird’s lone call.

Breakfast time
a school day
Lizbeth sits

poking at
her breakfast
scrambled egg

and sausage
tomato
her parents

sit there too
her mother
looks at her

what is up
with you now?
the mother

asks Lizbeth
nothing's up
Lizbeth says

poking egg
with a fork
I know you

my young girl
you're moody
and poking

at your food
Lizbeth stares
at the lips

moving of
her mother
more moaning

she muses
it's a boy
I expect

her father
interjects
what's a boy?

Mother asks
her bad moods
Father says-

unless he
muses it's
genetics

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

what boy's this
Lizbeth dear?
Mother asks

-Lizbeth thinks
of the boy
Benedict

and how she's
attempted
to have hot

*** with him
umpteenth times
without one

successful
episode-
not a boy

Lizbeth says
forking in
scrambled egg

just Monday
and the blues
and I'm on

on what Liz?
Father asks
looking out

over his
newspaper-
on the rag

Auntie's come
periods
bleeding lots

she muses-
Lizbeth stares
at Father

in that way
that she has
and he says

o I see
and looks back
at the big

newspaper
something more
Mother says

more than that
you've not got
pregnant

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

Lizbeth storms
spitting egg
throwing down

her steel fork
on the plate
I've just said

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

just like that
without you
knowing all

before me?
what about
that Benny

you talk of
he's a boy?
Mother says

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

innocent
of all crimes
she utters

just moody
Father says
like most girls

Lizbeth picks
up her fork
and eats more

scrambled egg
and thinks of
Benedict

and how she
tried to get
him to have

*** with her
on her bed
some weeks back

but he said
not like this
not just now

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

than just moods
and studies
the young girl

as she eats
wondering
if Liz has

with that boy
signs are there
she muses

but deep down
the mother
refuses

to accept
such could be
and sips tea

Lizbeth stares
at her plate
thinks of ***

with Benny
when it comes
if it comes

and what place
it might be
lifts her cup

and sips tea.

Can you
buy me
an Augusten
Burroughs book?
You asked.

I'd not heard
of the guy
until then;
read Bill Burroughs,
but this guy
was new to me.

Anyway,
I sought him out
in the local book store
and purchased
the book you said;
wrapped it up
for the birthday gift
and gave.

Now and then,
if house sitting
for you, while you
were at work
and some workman
came to do a job
or sort things out,
I’d pick out
the Burroughs book
and read
a paragraph
or so, smile,
get the drift,
the humour
pretty much
like yours,
then put it down
until another time arrived
to carry on
the quest to read
where I’d left off
the time before.

Now
since your sudden death,
I’ve inherited them all,
the large book
and medium range
and the small.

I've all the time
to read them now;
they sit there
by my bedside cabinet
waiting to be read,
silent, well behaved,
orderly, all in line.

I wondered if
you read them all,
or if time ran out
before the end,
that illusive
final paragraph
or so, that last book
unread.

I guess
I’ll never know;
you being
on the other side
of the curtain,
they label:
being dead.

Sure I’ll read
the books
read them
until the end
each
and every one;
but I’d rather
see you again
my dear
departed son.

I could have counted
the buttons

on her green
school cardigan;

could laid my head
on her soft lap,

on the green skirt;
gazed up

at the blue skies;
seen her

looking down
at me,

her eyes
dark pearls

in white cases;
but the school bell

had tolled
for the end

of recess,
and we had

to go back in.
The afternoon

was numbed
by her absence,

the teacher
rattling on

about some
scientific wonder,

left me out
in the cold,

seeing
in my mind's eye,

she,
her beauty,

her eyes,
her smile,

against the backdrop
of a bright blue sky.

Bill feels the weight
Of the gun, moves
It in the palm
Of his hand, puts
His finger on

The stiff trigger,
Raises it and
Aims. The woman’s
Fragile head would
Have exploded

Had he loaded
The gun, but he
Hadn’t, it was
Just for fun, just
For practising.

She passes by
In the busy
Sidewalk below
Unaware she’d
Been in his sights,

Her head still in
One piece, her brains
Intact. He’d put
A few women
Away in his

Time, but mostly
Men, taken out,
Targeted, by
Gun or hands or
Blown apart or

Drowned in their baths
By accident
Of course. He tucks
The gun away,
Wipes his hands on

His coat, takes out
A cigarette,
Lights it up, and
Inhales. He used
To often dream

Of having his
Father in his
Sights in deep sleep
Nights; seeing the
Fatherly head

Blown wide and all
The things he used
To say, the WASP
Thoughts, prejudices
Shot far away.

He smiles, exhales
And remembers
His mother’s kind
Ways and tender
Kisses, with her

Ignorance of
His dark work and
Killing hands and
Undercover
Days and nights, who

Knew nothing of
The CIA,
Black ops, or the
Secret wars; just
Wanted to love

Him deeply, chide
Him gently for
Not loving his
Own father or
Doing the chores.

Where you been?
Nima asks

train was late
I reply

the ward smells
of *****
and bodies
and nurses
disinfect
up the nose

Nima sits
in a chair
by her bed
in a white
dressing gown
her bare feet
on the floor

what'd you bring?

cigarettes
chocolate
usual stuff
I tell her
putting them
on her bed

need a drag
she utters

so we go
out of large
French windows
and sit down
in two chairs
in the grounds

we light up
cigarettes
and exhale

how's it going?
I ask her

miss my fix
and hot ***
she mutters
between drags
miss music
miss Hendrix

she looks out
at the grounds
the tall trees
the bushes
a porter
walking by
two doctors
over the way
talking loud

glad you came
she tells me

glad to come
I reply

she looks thin
her hair lank
no make up
cigarette
held between
*******

she tells me
her parents
didn't show
had to go
off some place
with others
Nima exhales

you know what?
they're doctors
yet don't come
to see me

I don't know
what to say
so I say
not a thing

watch a bird
swooping low
gracefully
black winged bird
with large beak

I need ***
nima says
suddenly
I need you
inside me

her dark eyes
eat me in

no place though
I tell her

she inhales
the white smoke
blows it out
making rings

someday soon
she utters
in London
in some room
some hotel
if they let
me go out
next weekend
with a pass

let's hope so
I reply
studying
the sun's light
in her right
gazing eye.

Janice and I
had taken a bus
to London Bridge
(pennies supplied

by my old man)
I showed her
the hospital of St Guys
and on until

we were over the Bridge
and we stood looking over
into the Thames
looks murky

she said
it is
I replied
are there fish

in there?
don't know
wouldn't want
to eat them

if there are
I said
she pulled a face
then straightened

her red beret
with her thin fingers
so that it sat just
at a slight tilt

her fair hair
flowing out
that look all right?
she asked

sure
it looks fine
I said
she wore a pink

flowered dress
and a white cardigan
and had a black
little girl's handbag

(her gran
had bought it
for her birthday
some months before)

where shall
we go now?
she asked
there's a café

my old man
takes me to sometimes
I said
we can go there

they do glasses
of cool lemonade
or cream soda
she smiled

and so I took her there
and we took seats
by the window
(the place was crowded

with adults)
and a waitress
brought us
two glasses

of cream soda
with straws
your father
brings you here?

she said
yes sometimes
when he takes me
to the West End

we go to other cafés
or restaurants
and go to
the fun machine arcade

and that's fun
putting coins
into these machines
some times

we go to the cinema
or just walk
about the sights
I said

Gran says evil people
live up the West End
that certain parts
are akin to Hell

Janice said
I don't about that
I said
we just go

to the safe parts
I guess
we sipped our sodas
she looking around her

at the adults
drinking and eating
and smoking
and laughter hit out

now and then
some guy pinched
a waitress's backside
and she slapped

his hand and laughed
Janice blushed
and looked away
another guy

with a black moustache
looked over at us
giving Janice the eye
smiling

an ear to ear grin
we finished
our sodas
and left the café

glad to be out
of there
happy
to be on our way.

Natanya threw a cup
and *** and saucepan
and I stood there
wondering what the heck

what this outburst
was all about
but a knife
whizzed by my ear

and I shouted at her
but she wasn't listening
she fled upstairs
cursing

babbling about
some girl
whose name
she had found

in a notebook of mine
and address too
she said
who is she?

Who?
This girl here?
What girl?
This one here

she shoved
the notebook at me
O her
I said

she was a girl
I stopped for shop-lifting
the other day
and I had to note

her name and address
for the police
Natanya stared at me
her dark eyes

bright and sharp
likely story
she said
you've been

seeing her
behind my back
and probably
bedded her

in that ****
workplace of yours
there was spittle
on her lower lip

ask Ron
he was there
he saw her too
he has her name

in his book too
O sure
he probably
had her too

she said
that is scraping
the bottom of barrel
I said

ask the manager
he saw
the notebook too
or do you think he

had the girl too?
Natnaya shut up
and looked
at the bed

behind her
I suppose
I made a mistake
she said quietly

yes
I said
I don't suppose
you have time?

she said
looking towards
the made up bed
not now

not after this
maybe later
I said
giving her a parting kiss.

Yochana seldom seems
to get flustered
never seems out of key

with what's going on
and as I wait
by the school

before getting
the school bus home
I wonder if she'll come

or if it was just a ruse
by her to get me
off her back lunchtime

kids pass me by
even Rolland goes by
see you Benny

see you mate
he says
and I feel like

a doughnut stuck
on a baker's shelf
at close of day

then she's there
cool eyed
prim and proper

in her uniform
her school tie
tied just so

her shoes shining
her skirt uncreased
didn't think

you'd show
I say
not sure

of your
attracting power now?
she says smiling

not that you have much
but I had to come
and see you off

she says
I look at her
then at the school bus

getting crowded
then back at her
standing there

neat
well groomed
black hair

she's too thin
too sweet
out of my league

but a kiss
just a lip to lip job
she eyes me

I could have
caressed her
a thousand times

(exaggeration)
lunch time
but no

here I wait
anxious
about the bus going

and she knowing
then she leans forward
and kisses me

just the once
and then turns
and my lips

seem hot
and my heart
burns.

Deep within
where none else goes

the hard grief grows
and just when you think

you are moving on a bit
it comes back

with the painful hit
moving you back

to yesteryears
which move to tears

the little boy
the growing lad

young man
grown man

and deep loved son
all wrapped up in one

big bundle of memories
unfolding and moving

and having moved
to edge of hurt and pain

the whirlpool
of all emotions spin

in that secret chamber
deep within

where none else goes
the deep grief grows

The French
peasant monk,
head bowed,
walks

through the cloister,
carrying two buckets
full with milk
from the farm,

his eyes full
of earth's colour.
I wash
in the cold water

from the icy jug,
the cloister seen
from the window above;
I feel her legs

about me,
bringing me in;
there
in the waters

of her passion,
I nearly drown.
The old monk
allows the bell rope

to rise
through his hands,
then
pulls it down.

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.

Your youngest sister
wears your blue
and white coat now,
my son; it brings her
some comfort
since your
sudden death.

She zips it up close,
to keep her warm,
thinking you
are still there inside,
to keep her safe.

I remember
you wearing
that white
and blue coat,
on your way
to work or back,
or out for the day
in all climes.

They were
the good days,
good times.

You use to zip it up
close to your chin
to keep the cold out,
the warmth in;
hands in the pockets,
elbows back,
like some large bird
about to take off
on a long flight.

You have taken off now;
set your soul's keel
to the open sea
of eternity.

I sometimes dream
of you at night,
see you as you were
before the stain
of death approached;
your smile spreading,
your blue eyes bright.

My name is Milly Aswillbe,
I wish there was just one of me,
But in fact, there’s twenty-three,

Each takes their time and place
To occupy my frame and face,

And have their stint upon the stage
Being good or madly rage

Or being sweet and kind
Or being wild and speak their mind,

Each has a different name from mine
One of which is Cassy Kline,

But each is odd to some degree,
For each is some part of me.

Yochana-
my bird thin,
dark haired,

Schubert loving,
once kissed
now shy, girl;

see how time
has sped
by us both.

How many stars
have burnt out
in that time and space?  

I dreamed of you
at one time,
tucked you away

in my dreams box,
placed you
at the bottom

of my mind's depth.
A photo of the old school
reminded me of you,

the background,
the playing field,
the other kids older

like you and me,
just before
the Beatles' first LP.

Yochana-
with whom
did you share your life?

Who touched your body?
Shared your lips,
sat with you

at the Schubert recitals?
I remember you
in front in class,

your head to one side
as the teacher played
that Schubert piece,

your thin frame,
narrow waist,
you titless,

Reynard said,
of you, he spoke.
I saw how

your hands moved
to the music's flow,
the fragile fingers

mock playing
on the desktop.
Reynard considered

the colour
of your underwear,
I studied you,

your far away,
music tranced stare.
Yochana-

where are you now?
In whose bed
did you lay?

Whose arms
embraced you?
Who fingers searched

you out and on?  
I recall
your bird-thin frame,

wiry arms,
the dark hair
the length

of your back;
how the Schumann piece
had you spaced out

in dream mode,
your eyes closed,
and I –

Benny,
watching you,
you,

unaware of me,
giving you
the desiring stare.

I sat on the bank
by the pond-
or lake as Yehudit
termed it-

Yehudit lay on her back
with one leg stretched out
and the other bent
with the knee
pointing skyward

I watched dragonflies
skimming
the water's skin
then taking off
zig-zagging
then off
out of sight

that cloud
looks like a swan
Yehudit said

I looked up
looks like your mother
I said

that's not nice
she said
saying my mother
looks like a swan

it's the neck
that does it
I said

she looked at me
smiling
her neck is not
like that at all
she said

or maybe it's the beak
like her nose?

she slapped
my arm playfully
that neither
she said

now the clouds changed
I said
the swan has dissolved
or moved on

she became serious
I thought
I was in trouble
last week
she said

I gazed at her
why was that?

I was late
she said
looking at me
seriously

late for what?
dinner?
school?
lessons?

no I mean my...
you know...
my thingy

I watched
as a duck landed
on the water
and swam towards
the edge

thingy?
I said  

it was green
and yellowy feathered
it had a sense
of gracefulness
as it swam

my periods
she said

and that means?
I said
turning to gaze
at her

she sat up
and sighed
I thought
I was in
the pudding club
she said

o I see
I said
taking in
her features
the brown hair
a few loose strands
over one eye
her thigh visible
where the skirt
had moved down

but I was just late
it's ok now
she said
turning on her side
back to normal

I said nothing
it was a science
beyond me
another duck landed
on the water
skimming along
like an airplane
crash landing

must be careful
she said

guess so
I said

the image
of the duck's landing
and her thigh
stuck inside
my 14 year old head.

I liked the way
Yochana's fingers
pretended to play piano
on the top
of the school desk

nimble
thin

Miss G
greying hair
in a bun
eyeing the class
as the Chopin
piano piece
floated
from the record player
on the teacher's desk

the class was silent
no one talked
or smirked

I followed
Youchana's fingers move
swallowed
the dryness
in my throat

studied how
her elbows
gracefully flowed
in and out
in artificial play

if she'd been
a liquid
I would have
drank her in
to quench
my thirst for her

the outline
of her narrow frame
the curve scant
but there
of her hips
and the long
dark flowing hair.

There is the stillness
of the body
the way it is laid out
the semi

unclothed state
the flesh
on the scrubbed table
washed and cleaned

they’d said
the head
just so
the hair brushed

as if she
just sleeping
eyes closed
lips sealed dumb

the hands motionless
at her sides
the mother stares
taking in each aspect

of the body
each minute part
of the skin
the bellybutton

the small indentations
she wants to lift
and hold to kiss
the lifeless skin

her daughter
that one
who answered back
who had odd tantrum

who listened to rock music
in her room too loud
silent now
not staring back

with those big blue eyes
of defiance
just there
laid out

head settled
on a small pillow
suffocated
they had said

someone had
pillowed her face
down hard
yet maybe

the mother thinks
if I wait long enough
it will be ok
just a mistake

an error on their part
but she knows
deep down
this is it

her daughter murdered
by some low ****.

Sure, he brought you lilac
And made the usual

Promises, but he *****
Other girls to get rid

Of frustration and get
His own back; that’s the kind

Of guy he is, always
Has been and always will,

Even his mother gives
Him a wide berth and has

Little to do with him,
Other than what most good

Mothers will if pushed to
Their limits and need to

Take account of who and
What their offspring is

Or was. Sure, he brought you
Chocolates and candy,

But he sleeps with other
Girls who are easy and

Handy and give him a
Good time and don’t hang on

To his every word and
Gaze and look and try to

Fit him into this type
Or that or into this

Way of being or gaze
At some wedding day book.

Sure, he kisses you all
Shyly and gentle, but

Behind your back, he
Drives dames mental with his

Wanting this and that and
Wanting it regular

And here and now and right
Upfront or behind or

Have *** anyhow. Sure,
He promises you many

Things, gifts and funny jokes
And is kindly to your

Mother, but unknown to
You or any other

He’s having *** with the
Girlfriend of your brother,

And that’s not a new thing
Or a one off or a sad

Mistake, he’s out to have
Any *** he can, be

It gladly given or
What he can gladly take.

Miss Pinkie
opens her door
and smiles.

I see you brought
some wine,
good boy;
go through
to the lounge.

She takes
the bottle of plonk from me
and I go through
and sit
on the white sofa.

She's playing
the Delius LP
I bought her.

The lounge smells
of perfume
and a touch of *****.

She comes in
with two glasses of wine
and puts them
on the coffee table.

How are you?

Not bad, not good.

Somewhere in between?

Guess so.

She sits down next to me;
her left hand touches my knee;
she's starting early.

I like places in between.

I guess you do.

You know I do.
She smiles;
her dimples explode.

I see you've put on Delius.

Yes, he's good.

Like me.

Hardly, my boy, hardly.
Her hand
moves up my thigh.

I pick up my glass
and sip.

Her hand reaches
my in between
and I almost choke
on the wine.

Are you multi-tasking?

No,
just sipping my wine.

She's nineteen years
my senior;
she's like a poor man's
Marie Antoinette
in looks.

She picks up her glass
and gulps the wine down.

That's how one drinks wine;
do you think the Romans
sipped wine?

I gulp down my wine;
feel light-headed;
put down the glass.

On here
or in my bed?

Don't mind.

Indecision
shows indifference.

I smell her perfume;
it engulfs me.

Her hand resumes
its search of paradise;
her red-nailed fingers
reach home;
my pecker stirs
like a woken snake.

Here is best.

Thought so,
she says.

She removes
her lower garments,
I look away;
too much
of a good thing
kind of philosophy.

Delius plays on,
but I prefer Mahler
alongside
****** activity,
he has more passion,
more sensuality.

She lays back.

I lower
my lower garments.

Her phone rings,
rattles on
the nearby shelf.

She gets up
and waddles
to the phone
and answers.

Hello, how are you?

No, I’m ok.

Can't make it tonight
I’m a bit *******.

Tomorrow?
Yes, should be fine.

Bye-bye.

I sit there,
watching
her plump backside;
Delius has ended
and so have I.

A sense
of disappointment
and a big
warm sigh.

Lizbeth sits
on her bike
by the hedge

her short skirt
showing thighs
her white blouse

open necked
Benny sees
her from his

bedroom view
sitting there
on her bike

he goes down
out the front
to see her

well I'm here
Lizbeth says
weather's warm

we could go
for a walk
or a ride

Benny knows
why she's come
and stands there

by the gate
I'm with Jane
not with you

he tells her
but will she
-****** queen-

that Jane girl
let you have
*** with her?

Lizbeth asks
I don't want
to have ***

with you or
anyone
Benny says

not until
I'm older
not thirteen

Lizbeth sighs
inwardly
wanting him

sexually
and had come
very close

a few times
the ******
that girl Jane

needn't know
if we do
Lizbeth says

anyway
we can still
have a walk

I promise
to be good
Lizbeth says

just to talk
nothing else
Benny says

but of course
she tells him
so Benny

walks with her
down the lane
by the side

of the house
between high
hedges filled

with song birds
she speaks of
her mother

and her moods
her father's
indifference

the latest
rock and roll
long player

she'd bought
he listens
to her talk

smelling her
strong perfume
her red hair

tied in two
ponytails
the freckles

on her skin
she thinking
as they walk

side by side
how he'd look
above her

having ***
in her room
back at home

both naked
and that Jane
watching them

Benny thinks
of the hawk
-sparrowhawk-

he had seen
while with Jane
its power

flying high
hovering
waiting for

the big ****
and Jane's hand
near to his

as they walked
but Lizbeth
talks about

a new dress
she'd been bought
a bright red

with flowers
of yellow
and quite short

and Mother
doesn't like
its shortness

she says it
shows too much
nonetheless

I have it
Lizbeth says
then she stops

you can come
and see it
at some time

at my place
I promise
to be good

Benny says
that he could
-not that he

ever would-
then he tells
her about

seeing the
sparrowhawk
hovering

above them
Jane and him
powerful

and mighty
in the sky
Lizbeth thinks

it boring
just a bird
she muses

wanting him
inside her
in her bed

in her room
but she'll wait
bide her time

like the hawk
for her prey
and have him

some hot day.

That hospital ward in 87
and you a young
3 year old
with an  infected leg.

You and I sitting
by the window
looking at the scene
and the trains going by
every now and then.

And the nurses
trying to get you
to take the medicine
and you fighting them off
and wiggling
and then after
they got it in your mouth
you let it drip out
of the side of your mouth
with that infamous smile.

That last time
in hospital in 2014,
with something more deadly,
the dark ward,
bed by the window,
you alone, adult now,
I saw you there,
huddled over,
puffed up,
seemingly neglected,
and I went
and rattled
the nurse's cage
about you
and the treatment
or lack of.

That last time we spoke,
mundane questions,
you ill, soft spoken,
fighting to breathe,
no infamous smile,
no last famous words,
just a reluctance
to say good bye
and leave.

Don't think
I’ll ever
get use to this:
your death,
your not being here,
the absence of you
in my chair,
sitting there,
silent,
with your
humorous grin.

I expect you
to come in
at your usual time,
on the usual days,
your hungry bear
walk, you searching
for food on table
and oven and fridge;
sitting watching TV
or some video,
playing games,
football crazy,
soft swearing
at the referee.

I can't believe
you've gone;
can't quite fix it
in my head,
the  hard fact
you're dead.

I see play over
and over
in my mind's eye,
that last talk,
you puffed
and unwell;
the mundane
conversation,
the minutes ticking by,
you seemingly
soon to go,
soon for the first time
to die.

Unanswered questions
remain
of who
and how
and why?

I had a bow
over my shoulder
and threes arrows
tucked in

a mother-made quiver
and was walking over
Meadow Row bomb site
with Janice beside me

-my Maid Marian-
what are you going
to shoot?
she asked

isn't it dangerous?
gran would say
it was dangerous
no the arrows

have got suckers
on the end
they're meant to stick
onto a surface

not enter into it
I said
so what are you going
to hit Benny?

a target on a wall
I tell her
she form an O
with her mouth

what target on a wall?
she said
as we came
to a brick wall

of a bombed out house
here will be the target
I said
she stood and watched

as I drew the outline
of a man with chalk
-a kid always has
a piece of chalk

in his pocket
as well as string
and marbles-
who is it meant to be?

she asked
doesn't look like
anyone I know
it's just a target

an outline of a man
I drew in eyes
nose and mouth
and a heart

and stand back
there is the target
I said
what now?

she said
I stand back a pace or so
and try hit the heart
with an arrow

I said
she nodded her head
so that her fair hair moved
and the red beret shifted

on her head
we walked back
a few paces
over the stones

and rubble
of the bomb site
until we reached
a distant I could hit

the drawn target
I removed the bow
from my shoulder
and took an arrow

from the quiver
and licked the sucker end
of the arrow
then placed the arrow

onto the string
and drew the arrow back
with my fingers
holding the **** firmly

will you hit his heart?
Janice said
I eyed along my arm
and arrow sucker

and at the drawn heart
and released the ****
and the arrow whizzed
through the air

and hit and stuck
to the wall
just on the edge
of the drawn heart

almost got it
Janice said
almost killed him
I walked to the target

and pulled off the arrow
it would have
killed him anyway
I said

can I have ago?
she asked
what if your gran
sees you?

I thought you said
she said it was dangerous?
she did
Janice said

but I won't tell her
I had ago
and she won't see me
what if she did?

I asked
she hesitated
taking the bow
from my hand

and she looked around
the bomb site
and over at the road
over the way

then back along
Meadow Row
satisfied her gran
was not around

she took the bow
from my hand
and the arrow
and attempted to put

the **** end
onto the string
how's it go?
she asked

I showed her
and her thin fingers
held the arrow in place
and the other thin fingers

held the bow
she closed an eye
and looked down
her thin arm

at her other hand
and the sucker end
of the arrow
got it?

I asked
got what?
she asked
the heart in view

I said
no I can't see it
you have
the wrong eye closed

I tell her
o
she said
and closed

the other eye instead
o yes now I see it
she said
as she drew back

the **** end
of the arrow
then she released it
and the arrow shot

through the air
and bounced off
the target
by the drawn head

it didn't stick
she said
you didn't licked
the sucker end

with spit
I said
yuk
she said

and handed me back
the bow
wiping her small hands
on her flowery dress

if gran had seen me
do that
I'd be in
for a good hiding

she said
I walked off
over the rubble
to get my arrow

and she stood watching
with the noon day sun
over her
fair haired head

you'd have killed
maybe
I called over
and said.

The Rozzer stopped me
on the bomb site
off Meadow Road
you been smoking?
he asked

I put on my surprised
what me Governor? face
no Officer

he stared at me
his large eyes
searching me
let me see your hands

I showed him
my 9 year old hands
ink stained
and unwashed
since breakfast

do you know
what happens to fingers
of people who smoke?

I shook my head

they go brown
he said
brown as *****

do they?
I said
I knew they did
because my old man's
were slightly
*******
of one hand

he pursed his lips
to say more
but he didn't
he peered at me
looking for clues
of smoking

if I catch you smoking
I’ll take you home
to your parents
and that'll be it
my boy
get it?

I nodded
yes Officer
I stood looking
by him
at the bombed out houses
behind
the pub
on the corner

where do you live?

I tell him the address
of a neighbour's house
the old boy's deaf
as a post
so won't grass

well mind yourself
and the Rozzer went
hands behind his back
walking across
the bomb site

I look behind me
for the self rolled cigarette
I tossed behind me
when I saw him approaching
minutes before

I looked to see
how far the Rozzer
had gone
he went off Meadow Row
and out of sight

I found the cigarette
smouldering weakly
behind a broken brick

I picked it up
and dusted off
grit and dust
and puffed it
back to health

I held the cigarette
between arched fingers
as I’d seen gangsters do
in black and white films
then looked over
the bomb site again
sensing the start of rain.

Your eyes, the windows into your soul,
Look dark and frightened as you stare
Out the window of the bus, which
Seems to be going nowhere you know,
And you carry in your mind’s eye
The image of the crucified man nailed
To a door in a village, some hours back.

Another you saw in the local church
Hung up high above your head,
His plaster figure nailed to wood,
His features chiseled into the guise
Of pain, but you never looked again,
You always turned your face away,
Until today, when the other was hung
A few feet from the ground with
Rusty nails, with distant sounds of
Gunfire filling the wet noon air.

The bus pauses, you look out to see
If another may be hanging from some
other tree, or if some one will bring
back your father from the men who led
him away, so you may see him smile again
Through the window and downpour of rain.

Yesterday was a dark doomer.
I thought I saw you
here and there
in the other town
where once we wandered
years ago.

Grief had a field day,
keeping me low.

I wandered shops
with the others
and alone, feeling
on the edge, looking
into that dark abyss.

I bought a Hunter
Thompson book
from the cheap
book shop,
the girl gave me a,
why did you buy that?
kind of look;
young girl,
bored maybe,
thinking of her
boyfriend or girlfriend
or whosoever.

I thought of you,
you, my son,
the way you went,
the unanswered
questions so far,
holding your hand
as you slipped away,
flat-lining heart.

We had sandwiches
and drank,
in the inside café;
watched other people
do their thing,
life going on,
unaware
that dark doomers
were sitting there.

But of course,
you knew, you were
probably there
unseen by us,
eating a burger
and sipping a cola,
(at least
in that spirit world
as we think,)
looking at us,
sipping your drink.

Guriel said I should join
the Scout Movement
we have lots of fun
we set up our tent

go collect firewood
from the woods
light fires
with two sticks of wood

rubbed together
eat beans and sausages
cooked over
a camp-fire

drink tea or coffee
cooked in a big ***
stuck in the fire
sitting around

the camp fire
singing songs
and also how
to tie and untie knots

we crossed
St George’s Road
on the way home
from school  

what do you think?
he added
after a moment's silence
from me

do you know
the plague of London
in 1665
was probably started

by rats carrying the fleas
that brought the Plague
getting off ships
I said

Old man Fin
told us
in history today
I know

said Guriel
I was there
where in London in 1665?
I said jokingly

no in class
when Mr Fin
was telling us
we went down

the subway
our voices echoing
along the walls
so what about

joining the Scouts?
he asked
no not my scene
I said

I’d rather pick lice
from Zimra's head
but it's good
Guriel said

all boys together
no pesky girls about
spoiling our fun
O well that spoils it for me

I said
no girls no deal
Guriel frowned
they have their own group

it's called Girl Guides
or Brownies
if they're young girls
he said

maybe I’ll join the Guides
I said
you can't
it's for girls only

we came out
on the New Kent Road
O well
that's me stuffed then

I said
but it'll make a man of you
Guriel said
you can join

one of the armed services
when you leave school
no thanks
I said

my old man said
it was the worse days
of his life in the army
I’d rather work in a garage

or theatre sell ice creams
in the cinema
we stopped
at the corner

of Meadow Row
well if you change your mind
he said
it's over

by the church hall
over there
he said
and he walked off

and I walked down
Meadow Row
thinking about
my mother's meat pie

watching
a swooping
black bird
in the afternoon sky.

Nima's not
in the mood
for the quacks

visiting
the mental
cases ward

coming round
in white coats
stethoscopes

and closed minds
she's outside
in the sun

that despite
the nurse’s
wanting her

on the ward
not outside
chain smoking

a doctor
with a nurse’s
comes outside

the doctor
not happy
you should be

on the ward
for our rounds
not out here

the quack said
Nima sits
on a seat

her legs crossed
the night dress
with no belt

reveals sight
of her thighs
and she smiles

at the spark
alive there
in his eyes.

Frumpy
the other girls
called her
at school

and the boys
when they bothered
with her at all
which wasn't often

as they had
other girls
to chat up
or not at all

but play ball
or games
on field
Elaine sat in class

waiting for the bell
to ring for lunch recess
for the end
of the long morning

waiting to see John
(well 3 hours and over)
and she put her pens
and pencils away

and not hearing
what the teacher
might say
seeing only

his broad back
and raised hand
with chalk
and endless talk

over his shoulder
if only
she were bolder
she'd tell him

to ****** off
(such language
her mother
would say)

but she only
managed a cough
waiting
for the bell to ring

tense
sitting on the edge
of her chair
not wanting

to be there
the words India
and Bombay
came over

the shoulder
slinking her way
she sat and stared
at the broad back

suited in black
at least John had talked
to her before school
getting off the bus

something about a Jay
some bird he'd seen
she couldn't relate
or think where

a bird came into
the conversation
she had been so tense
her nerves on edge

her stomach churning
come on Frumpy
a girl said
at her left

bell's gone
had it?
she hadn't heard
the whole class rose

in a mass
and made
for the exit
books packing

noise making
laughter
and confidence expressing
unlike she

who sat momentarily
unsure if John
would be there
or not

she feeling cold
then hot
on life's edge
half wanting to cry

and then laugh
then cry again
she got up
with satchel

and books packed
and pencils
and pens
she made her way

out of the room
like one awaiting
execution
and dark gloom.

Nima holds
the **** in
her bladder

another
occupies
the toilet

she can hear
the woman
*******
seemingly
hear talking
explosions
of farting
muttering

Nima stands
with hands
held in place
between thighs

hey in there
what the ****
you doing
laying eggs?
Nima says

go away
a voice says
go elsewhere
I’m busy

Nima sighs
where to go?

her bladder
is ready
to explode

she rushes
through the ward
passed nurses
out through doors
to the next
lavatory
and pushes
it open
and shuts it
and locks it
undresses
and sits down
and lets go

she thinks of
Benedict
and that time
that they ******
in some cheap
boarding house
in London

another
deep release
not of ****
but of ***
held in place
by a kiss.

Back at school
Jupp says no
he doesn't

want to know
which one girl
in the class

of 2C
looks at him
and likes him

it's playtime
the sun's out
boy's playground

with ballgames
and card games
she seems to

I tell him
all the same
those **** girls

he tells me
just a game
or a trick

I show him
a coin trick
handkerchief

and penny
anyone
can do that

young Jupp says
moodily
watch this then

I tell him
he watches
the coin trick

once again
but it's gone
in thin air

and he stands
mouth open
while the girl

from her playground
studies him
tufty hair

dull blue eyes
somewhere there
her love lies.

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

and about
two inches
in diameter
like some artist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I fell
she said
on the stairs running
from whom?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

she said
he gets angry
and hits you
and bruises you

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

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

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

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

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

I’ve worn
your Doors tee shirt.

It fitted you better
than it does me.

I remember you
wearing it
not long
before you died,
the Jim Morrison face
looking out at me
where your stomach
warmly used to be.

I wore it
in a kind
of remembrance;
a need to feel
where once
your body
snuggled up
against the cloth;
wanting to feel
the place
where you had touched,
to sense another feel
where you had been.

I didn’t want
to take it off.

It seemed another
warm embrace
of son and father,
like we did
just now and then,
less so,
for some reason,
as grown men.

I’ve worn
your Doors tee shirt.

It suited you better
than it does on me;
it hangs on me
where it hugged
you tight.

I’ll wear the tee shirt
with the Morrison features,
feel the cloth
which you once felt,
sense the touch
of you once more
in mind and heart;
believe some particle
of you may still
reside in cloth’s
worn hold,
that you
may ever be there
in every fold

We drove
to the funeral directors,
Nat, Gabs and I,
to pick up
Ole's ashes.

We walked from the car
to the building
across a forecourt
in silence,  
it seeming surreal,
yet all too real
as we approached together.

A woman met us
at the door,
a well fed,
plump one.

Can I help you?

We've come
for the ashes
of my son,
I said.

His name?

I told her.

She showed us
into a room
and we sat in silence.

The small room was built
for solemnity: sad music
was piped from speakers
on the walls and the décor
was dull, yet fit
for the sad occasion.

We waited,
looking at each other,
looking away.

Part of me expected,
unreal, yet
somehow real,
for Ole to walk in
in his black coat
and hungry bear gait
and say:
Fooled you all
that time.

But he didn’t
of course,
just the music
and an air
of heaviness
and deep sadness.

The woman returned
with a small oak casket
with Ole's name on
the brass plaque on top.

She handed it to Nat
and gave me a form
that had to be filled in
before Ole's remains
could be interred or
the ashes scattered;
another piece
of officialdom in death,
as if nothing else mattered.  

We said our thank yous
and gazed at the woman.

She had a look
of sadness,
a solemnity,
but she had no tear
I could see, but why
should she, I thought,
she didn’t know young Ole.

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

Waterloo
I tell him

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

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

why watch trains?
he asks me

we like trains
I tell him
the steam trains

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

yes Daddy
she replies
timidly

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

sure I will
I tell him

you'd better

course I will

he goes in
grumpily
walking slow
down the hall

Lydia
looks at me
her small frame
seeming so
under fed

let's go then
I tell her

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

enough coins
for the fare
on the bus

and maybe
2 doughnuts
1 coffee
and 1 tea.

Lizbeth holds
Benedict’s
father's bike

while sitting
on her own
waiting for

Benedict
to return
from the hedge

with bird's eggs
or the shells
of blackbirds

he had seen
once nest there
she is bored

she wants more
and other
things than this

bird watching
or looking
out for those

butterflies
she wants ***
not nature

study *****
Benedict
where are you?

she calls out
just coming
he replies

if only
she muses
watching bees

on flowers
the soft buzz
butterflies

going by
fluttering
Benedict

she calls out
where are you?
here I am

he replies
coming out
of a hedge

clutching blue
black speckled
eggshell bits

in his palm
look at that
fine eggshells

he says soft
she looks strained
her eyes scan

the eggshells
in his hand
is that it?

just eggshells​?
lucky find
he replies

tucking them
in the black
saddlebag

on the bike
she watches
his fingers

how gently
they arrange
the eggshells

in the bag
can we go
to that hut

on the Downs
that you found?
she asks him

he buckles up
the black bag
I guess so

he replies
it's not big
just an old

shepherd's hut
unused now
is it far?

she asks him
ten minutes
walk away

he replies
we can't ride​?
she asks him

too hilly
he replies
her lips pout

and she sighs
only way
he tells her

ok then
she replies
so they ride

to the foot
of the Downs
leaving their

two bicycles
by a tree
and walk up

and along
the pathway
between trees

he thinking
of a nest
he'd seen there

the last time
Robin's nest
he believes

she thinking
of hot ***
in the shed

on the floor
on the old
bath towel she'd

brought from home
she and he
all alone

Benedict
unaware
walks and sniffs

the fresh air
thinking of
possible

robin's eggs
and of them
getting there.

Netanya met me
at the rail station
and we got the train

to the coast
for the evening air
and sight of sea

and just be
he asked
where are you going?

and I said
that's for me to know
and you to guess

I told him
Netanya said
the sight of the sea

and moonlight
and the sound of waves
and smell of salt

made the trip out
with her special
does he guess

who you are with?
I asked
she looked out

at the horizon
a ship passed by
shadowy

in the evening light
he can guess
all he likes

won't make
any difference
she said

we walked along
by the beach
she held my hand

her wedding ring
had been removed
the green raincoat

tied tight
against
the evening wind

must seem odd to him
that you choose
to go out

rather than stay in
and watch TV
I said

are you sorry
I asked you out?
she said

no
just curious
as to why?

I said
she looked at me
with her dark eyes

think I love you
she said
then looked away

at the sea
dangerous three words
I said

but meant
she said
not easy to admit that

about someone
guess not
I said

how do you feel
about me?
she asked

I like being with you
I said
I think of you a lot

and?
she said
what does that mean?

I smelt the salt
strong
hitting the lungs

clearing the head
love you a lot
I said.

Ayez-vous
le temps ?

the dame
said to me

in Paris.
It's past

my bedtime,
I replied;

I really must
snuggle up

with teddy
and a glass of milk.

See this leg
that's not there?
Anne asks

Skinny Kid
lifting up
her red skirt

to show him
the leg stump
so he stares

at the leg's
fleshy stump
I see it

or I don't
he replies
and they sit

eyes to eyes
well it hurts
she tells him

even though
it's not there
beyond that

******* stump
of hot flesh
he notes her

dark of eyes
himself there
reflected

two of him
looking back
but none of

the penguins
-nursing nuns
in habits

black and white-
believe me
when I say

my leg hurts
or they say
Anne it's

in your head
not your leg
your leg's gone

nothing's wrong
do you Kid
believe me?

sure I do
the Kid says
what you say

I believe
Anne plants
a wet kiss

on the Kid's
pale white brow
that's good Kid

**** the nuns
and their doubts
and she waves

her thin hand
in the space
below the

fleshy stump
it hurts here
she tells him

or somewhere
there abouts.

Sheila stares
at the wall
of her room

on her bed
thoughts on John
what he said

his soft touch
of her hand
as he got

on the bus
leaving her
standing there

at the school
tomorrow
we will talk

he had said
she lies there
on her bed

on her side
staring hard
other thoughts

pushed aside
her mother
is downstairs

finishing
the washing
the dinner

is cooking
her brother's
in his room

listening
to Elvis
she can hear

the LP
being played
too loudly

she moves on
to her back
staring at

the ceiling
trying to
cope with this

inner love
sick feeling.

Miss A held up the card
with a word on it

who knows
what this word is?
she asked

the class stared glumly
at the card

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

no it's not monster
Miss A said moodily

another girl
put up her hand
is it mouse?

O’Brien snorted
a laugh behind
his ink stained hand

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

I put up my hand

yes Benedict?
Miss A said

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

yes you can
but no you may not
she said sternly

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

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

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

what was that O'Brien?
Miss A asked

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

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

we gazed at the card
in her hands

who knows
the first letter?

a girl put up
her hand

it's M Miss
she said

and the second letter?

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

she gazed at me
and the third letter?

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

already whispered O'Brien
ain't long had dinner

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

aitch
he said

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

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

and the last letter?
Miss A asked

it's R Miss
O'Brien said

so what do all
the letters say?
she asked

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

no no
Miss A said
look at the letters

I lifted my hand

and she said
yes Benedict?

I need the bog Miss

GO
she said loudly

and I got up
and sped as fast
as I could

just as I got
to the door

Dennis said
it's Muvver Miss

Miss A looked away
she looked
distressed

it had been
a long
hard day.

Benedict
thinks of her
Christina

the girlfriend
at high school
as he now

undresses
preparing
for bedtime

she far off
in her house
in her town

her parents
probably
below stairs

watching their
dull programmes
on TV

while she in
her bedroom
undresses

or so he
imagines
(in his head)

watching her
removing
each piece of

clothing
as he too
undresses

in his room
a coloured
centrefold

of a fast
racing car
on the wall

and her small
photograph
by his bed

she gave him
he'd seen her
on the field

at high school
during their
lunch recess

she sitting
with her friends
giggling

then walking
together
off alone

high smell of
lavender
her soft hand

lips kissing
now in bed
lying there

lights all out
just moonlight
reflecting

her image
he pretends
she is there

next to him
not speaking
not laughing

both watching
the moon move
and stars shine

hands touching
fingers entwined
each having

the same thoughts
in shared mind.

Where are you now
my son?

Where are you now?
I seek you

in the high noon
and at eventide

I wait for your presence
in the hall

your entrance
into the main room

sitting at table
or in your favourite

armchair
but I look again

and you're not there.
I listen

for your Mutley chuckle
in a further room

or your deep
soft laugh

or words of wit
but I listen again

and there's none of it.
I gaze at your pictures

about the house
those when

a mischievous child
or thoughtful student

or grown man
all spread

to a twenty nine
year span

all having
that knowing look

that smile or grin
and it makes me

hurt within
that you have gone

yet proud
Ole

proud
my son.

Some dame
in a pink top
and blue jeans
sits near Johnny
in the coffee bar

she taps into her PC
with pink nailed fingers
sips a coffee

Johnny looks
at the guy she's with
a young bespectacled guy
also tapping his PC
yakking about
some course he's doing

Johnny looks lazily
at her
sips his China tea
wonders what colour
her bra
beneath the pink top
and if she needs one
with her scant *******
as far as he can see
from sideways on

she scans her screen
of words and images
the young guy talks
about straight A's
gives the young dame
a ****** gaze and smiles

I wonder if he's had her
Johnny thinks
letting his eyes
wander her frame
the profile of face
the nose slim lined
the jaw
the lips too thin

she sips her coffee
her slim fingers holding
the cup's thin handle
a small finger
sticking out

the youth taps again
at his PC
his eyes on
a downward stare

Johnny gazes
at the dame's
blue jeans
and wonders
what colour
her underwear?

As soon as she closed her bedroom door Sophia began to undress daj spokój she said in Polish come on she said in English Benedict stood staring what if your parents come back? he said they not come for ages she said go out to dinner with friends but Benedict was unsure he stood there watching her undress you just come to watch? she said standing there in her underclothes we have only just come back from the cinema he said can't we just have a coffee first and maybe think about it? no we not time for coffee we have *** she said gazing at him sternly he began to take off his clothes listening out for voices or a door closing or opening not worry they not be back we have hours before they back she said removing the last of her clothes and pulling back the bed covers he looked at the bed at the pillows at her standing there completely bare your father speaks little good English last time I was here he misunderstood me then how can I explain this? not time to explain now she said getting into the bed and watching him ******* reluctantly his eyes on her his heart pumping fast imagining her father coming up the stairs and finding him there she patted the bed beside her I am ready she said let us get going he stood undressed and climbed into the bed beside her she turned and switched off the lamp beside the bed then turned to face him again he saw her outline in the light of the moonlight coming through the window she touched his pecker with her slim fingers he felt unready for anything he wanted to go home and be somewhere safe she kissed him and put a hand on his back he put his hand on her thigh felt soft skin I see you have no crucifix on your wall above the bed like your parents have he said no I don't want Jesus see me at night in bed or get up in morning she said my parents are old fashion Catholics I think differently about things she kissed him on the lips her tongue entered his mouth and moved around his tongue he gagged and she moved her tongue away and sat back what matter now? first you have no stiff now you not like the tongue why you here? she said moodily he sighed you said come back to your place for coffee nothing about this he said you not like me not fancy me? she said yes I do but I’m not ready he said we wait a while she said laying back on the pillow he lay back too they faced each other neither touching how long have you lived here in England? he asked I came when I was nine years old he nodded your mother she's Italian? Sophia nodded yes my father he Polish they met after the War in Italy she said why did they come here to live? he asked my father come here with a job he get and bring us here too she said her hand felt for his pecker and touched he stirred looked at her in the semi-dark he touched her leg with his right hand she kissed him and put a hand around his neck you like me? she asked yes I do but what if your parents come back? you worry too much they not come back yet she said licking her lips she pulled him closer to her body you not like ***? she asked he sighed and looked past her at the window at the moonlight yes I do but I can't relax just in case he said in case of what? I tell you not come back long time she said in a fast movement she was on top of him and leaning breathing over him licking his chest he lay there pinned to the bed I really can't he said yes you can she said I feel stiffness of it she said come on we have it he looked past her head at the patterns on the ceiling made by the moonlight and trees swaying she worked on him and moved and moved and he sensed her moving and the light came and went the moonlight gone then there he put his hands on her thighs and felt a swimming sensation as if he were in water or swaying or he didn't know what but the bed moved and so did she and he and the moonlight was gone and there was darkness and perfume and body and lips and he felt himself as if swimming fast as waves lifted him and let him down then up and he thought he heard sirens or maidens or voices  and her lips were on his and her tongue entered and he swallowed her up and or though he had and she said come come and he heard angels sing or maidens moan or sirens on rocks or voices downstairs or calling voices from the shore was her parents or sea waves and she brought him around and over and now he was riding the waves of the sea and she lay there spread like an eagle wings wide and he kissed her lips her neck her cheek her nose as he dipped and rose and she began to sing or sigh or laugh or call and the waves lifted high and then low and he kissed her ******* then he swam and swam as he rose and fell and sounds came and went maidens calling angels singing or calls from a far off shore lights flashed in his head or was it the wall and she entered her tongue and **** and **** and he skimmed the high waves and slide into the rise and fall and voices or angels singing or maidens calling from a nearby shore was that her parents calling or singing he wasn't sure.

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.

Her mother poured tea

her father sat talking
about his day at work

her sister sat eating
her jam and cheese sandwich

Elaine sat looking
into space
her eyes vacant

cat got your tongue?
her mother said
gazing at her
the teapot mid-air

her father looked at her
perhaps she found herself
a boyfriend
and smiled

some hopes
her sister said
more chance of you
winning at horses Dad

Elaine blushed
and tried to look
uninterested
in the conversation
such as it was or wasn't

so who's the boy
who's in love
with my Frumpy Hen?
the father said

no boy at all
Elaine said
just thinking

that requires a brain
her sister said
with a mouthful
of jam and cheese
sandwich

her mother said
what boy
I never heard
of a boy?

there is no boy
it's just Dad
having his joke
Elaine said
going red
feeling her body
become hot  

I was going to say
you're too young yet
for boys and their
nonsense
you're just 14
why when I
was your age
boys were not
even on the agenda
why my dad'd
strap me one if
he thought I'd been
messing with boys

Elaine couldn't get
a boy to look at her
let alone mess
about with her
her sister said
munching the mouthful

Elaine tried to bring
her heart into
a steady pace
her pulse was racing
she sensed her blood
rushing through her body
like lava down a volcano

I can't imagine
our Elaine with a boy
anyway
her father said
maybe a boy
with a white stick
he joked
with a guide dog

Elaine gazed at her father
and frowned

only joking
my Frumpy Hen
I dare say
you'll get some one
someday

not before she's older
her mother said
sitting at the table
not before she's
much older
can't have a girl
her age with boys
and all they get up to
like that Mrs Kimp's daughter
out all hours with boys
coming along the road
with a boy on her arm
not right and she
no older that Elaine here

Elaine tried to imagine
herself some place else
as she ate a ham sandwich
feeling like gagging
on it

if she was a daughter of mine
I'd give her what for
the mother said
sitting uneasy
on the chair
gazing at Elaine's
young sister
not at Elaine

I'm not thinking
of a boy
Elaine lied
feeling her body unfold
her heart racing along

good job too
her mother said
you're my good girl
giving Elaine a smile
as John crept
into Elaine's thoughts
all the while.