She'd slept bad.

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

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

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

Her sister snored.

Her sister talked
in her sleep.

Elaine wished
for morning.

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

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

She ate feeling full,
feeling ill.

Lovesick her
father said jokingly.

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

Elaine ate and mused dully.

Wondered if John
would kiss her again.

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

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

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

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

Her mother said boys
were not for breakfast talk.

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

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

It was the day after
JFK got blown away
and Judith saw Benedict
briefly after work

outside the gas station
where he worked.
Shame about the President,
she said, I quite liked him.

Yes, ******, Benedict said,
why do they do that?
Why blow away a good man
When there are plenty

of bad buggers to blow out.  
Judith looked up at the moon;
her coat was buttoned up
tight to keep out the cold.

How are you? she asked.
Benedict gazed at her.
So so, bored with the job,
**** gas and oil and all that

moaning from the customers.
It comes with the territory,
she said. Apart from that then?
she said. He smelt her perfume;

it was different from her usual.
New scent? She smiled. Yes,
glad you noticed, she said.
Bought it from my own money

instead of having to borrow
my mother’s. That other stuff
was your mother’s? Yes, she said.
God, no wonder it was bad, he said.

She hit his arm. Only joking he said.
How can I tell with you? she said.
When I smile, then I’m joking.
She sniffed the air. Frost coming.

He looked at her walking beside him,
her hands in her pockets, her headscarf
on her head, her hair escaping,
the moonlight catching it.

Cold? he asked, I know how we
can get warm. Not tonight and not
how it went before, she said.
Shame, he said, the moon’s out full

and the stars are bright.
Do you love me? she asked.
Of course I do, he said.
Then wait, she said.

He wanted to hold her hand,
but it was shoved in her pocket.
Can I kiss you? he asked.
She stopped by the roadside.

The hedgerows were like
small dark walls, trees stood
like silent giants. She took out
her hands and held him close

and they kissed. It was the first time
they’d kissed in a while, he
recalled the time before, her lips had
pressed lightly then, half not wanting

to, half unsure. He sensed her lips
there, the pressing was firm, her
warmth warmed him. He held her
about the waist, wanted to touch

her skin, her nakedness. Their
lips parted. They stood looking
at each other. He saw her eyes
catch moonlight, tears reflected.

She sensed a growing apart, she’d met
another, at work, in the town,
wasn’t sure where it would go.  
Benedict sensed uncertainty there,

something out of place,
a connection loosened, despite the kiss
and hold. The darkening night,
the biting of the cold.

Polly wants to sleep more,
but the bell
from the church
tells it's time
to get up.

Susie's beside her,
just beginning to wake,
opening her eyes.

She smiles that stupid smile,
Polly thinks,
remembering her cold feet
against her legs
in the night,
her arms about her waist.

If only it was Master George's
hands about her waist,
his feet on her legs.

But he is at war,
some cold wet trench.

Susie sits up
says something
about wanting to turn over
and go back to sleep.

Polly tries to push thoughts
of the day ahead
from her mind.

A maid's work
is never done.

Fires to start,
cleaning to begin,
breakfasts to help prepare,
on beck and call.

If only Master George
was home,
she could look forward
to his bed at night,
his arms about her,
his lips on her skin.

Susie looks at Polly.
She had managed
to get her arms
around Polly's waist,
feel her skin on hers.
She had wanted
to kiss her neck,
but refrained.

Temptations always there.
Watching her undress at night
getting ready for bed,
seeing her standing there,
semi bare, waiting there.

She remembers her lips
being just inches
from Polly's back,
her lips wanting to settle
on Polly's shoulder.

Polly sits up,
pushes the blankets back,
and sits on the edge
of the double bed.

Feet dangle, hands in lap.
The chill air about her.
The wash basin
on the washstand.

Break the ice in the jug,
cold wash.
*** first
in the chamber ***
under the bed.

Susie watches Polly's back,
the way her body
narrows in at the waist,
her bottom on the bed,
her hands in the lap.
She sighs softly.

Polly gets out
the chamber ***
and squats.

Susie looks away.
Closes her eyes.
She can hear
the musical sounds
of water on metal ring.

She kissed Polly's arm once
(pretended she was sleeping)
Polly pushed her lips away,
muttered words.

If only she'd let her
kiss her just the once.
She could store it away
and bring it out
and relive it each day.

Polly stands up
and goes  
to the washstand
and breaks the ice
in the jug,
pours water
in the basin,
washes quickly.

Susie watches,
eyes searching Polly,
taking in each
aspect of her,
each inch of skin.
If only Polly would relent
and let her in.

Polly dries
on the rough
white towel,
face, neck,
arms and hands.

She peers out
of the attic window.
Cold dawn.
Light beginning.

If only Master George
was in bed
instead of Susie,
if only,
then she wouldn't be
so fed up
and bed time lonely.

Fay met you
at the bus stop
on the New Kent Road
she was dressed

in the lemon coloured dress
you liked
and her hair
was pulled tight

into a ponytail
where are you going?
she asked
to the Globe

you said
what Shakespeare’s Globe?
she asked
no the fleapit cinema

at Camberwell Green
you replied
oh
she said

I’ve never been there
my daddy doesn’t like
me going to cinemas
he says they’re

dens of sin
she looked at you
as if you would confirm
her father’s words

well it’s certainly a den
you stated
but whether its
of sin I don’t know

she looked puzzled
and touched
her ponytail
with her hand

are you coming along?
you asked
she looked about
as if her father

might be behind her
should I?
she asked
do you want to?

yes
she replied
then let’s go
but I haven’t any money

she said
I have enough
you said
my Mother gave me money

for chores I did
oh I see
she muttered
and she bit her lip

what would my daddy say
if he saw me?
he won’t
how can you be so sure?

trust me
you said
fathers know little
of what their kids do

she smiled
if you think so
she said
sure I do

besides it’ll
do you good
you said
giving her a smile

and then the bus came
and you both got on
and sat next
to each other

and you paid
the bus conductor
the fare
and as the bus

moved off
you both swayed
to the motion
of the bus

her arm touching yours
the fading bruise
on her flesh
a mixture of yellow

and brown
and blue
but you said nothing
besides you thought

if her old man
beats her
what the hell
can I do?

Janice helped you
to gather up
the loose pieces of coal
on the cobbled road

leading to the coal wharf
off Meadow Row
you watched as she put
the pieces in the sack

you’d brought with you
as the evening mist
settled upon the scene
her red beret placed

at an angle
her hair
smooth as water
is this allowed?

she asked
looking around
at the back of houses
still standing after

the wartime bombing
finders keepers
you said
or so Granddad told me

the other week
when I saw him
she gazed at you
unconvinced

but put in more
of the black pieces
you handed to her
what will my gran say

when she sees
my blackened hands?
Janice said
I can’t tell her

or she’ll tan my hide
as she calls it
you looked
at her coal stained fingers

the way they held
and placed the coal
you can wash your hands
at my place

you said
Mum won’t mind
she likes you anyway
Janice looked at you

her lips spreading
into a smile
nice to know
she said

maybe when we’re grown
and married
she’ll like me better
the sky had darkened

the mist heavy
the moon glowing
I guess so
you said

wondering if her gran
would see it that way
if she lived
to see the day

that should be enough
coal now
you said
taking the sack

from her blackened hands
noticing the thin fingers
she rubbing her hands
together against the cold

the dark
and winter weather.

It looked like rain.

Sky dark and dim.

Yiska stood
in the playground
waiting to see Benedict
get off the school bus.

She needed to see him
before lessons began
or there would be
little chance if it rained.

She had prayed
-at least in mind-
for dry weather
and clear skies,
but it didn't
seem promising.

Kids passed on
their way into
school playgrounds:
boys into theirs,
girls into theirs.

Why couldn't
they mix?
She mused.

One school bus
came in,
but not his,
his was a different bus
than that which arrived.

More kids walked past.

She sighed.

Scratched a thigh,
brushed fingers
through her hair.

Then it came in
around the bend.

She searched
the windows,
hoping he
was coming,
hoping he'd
be first off
not last as he
was sometimes.

He was last,
head down,
hand in pockets,
looking at the ground
in deep thought.

She hoped he'd
looked up as
he went by.

She hoped.

She wondered.

Benedict,
she called,
peering through
the wire fence.

He looked up
and smiled.

Can we talk?
She asked.

Yes, sure,
he said
and he followed her
along the fence
as she looked
for space where
it was free of girls.

Looks like rain,
she said,
looking at the sky,
then at him.

Yes, it does,
he said,
peering at her
through the fence,
wishing it wasn't there.

Won't see you much
if it rains, if at all,
she said.

He leaned near
as he could,
poked a finger
through a hole
and she touched
his finger with hers.

No, unless we
arrange to meet
some place
in the school
at lunchtime.

Yes, but where?
She said,
getting her lips
as close to the fence
as was possible.

He leaned in closer
their lips touched
between the small gap
in the wire fence.

Gym?
He suggested.

Too busy,
she replied,
always keep-fit freaks
in there lunchtimes.

He mused feeling
her lips again.

Warm, wet.

A bell rang.

They parted
and she said,
look out for me.

He nodded
and the girls lined up
in classes.

He walked
off quickly
into the boys playground
around the school building,
thinking of her,
sensing the dampness
of her lips on his,
taking one last glimpse
of her as he passed,
the bell
was still ringing,
but he couldn't
be arsed.

She was sitting on the grass
on the sports ground
some other girls
were with her

he could hear
their laughter
and chatter
but when she saw him coming

she got up from the group
and walked towards him
leaving the girls
to giggle behind her

wasn't sure
if you'd be out here today
Christina said
he paused in front of her

taking in her neat hair
and smile
sure I am
he said

yesterday was one of those things
I got tied in to helping
the gym teacher after dinner
and well what can a guy do

when he's wanted
that's all right
she said
just I missed you

he smiled
he liked it
when she said
those kind of things

they walked up
the sports field together
the giggling girls
in the background

don't pay mind to them
she said
they're just jealous
not of you being with me

he said
why not?
she said
I'm nothing

to write home about
he said
I'd write home about you
she said

well maybe only
if my mother
was in on e
of her good moods

he laughed
she talked
of her mother's moods
her ups and downs

of her father
and her elder brother
and he always being
where she was

coming into her room
or catching her
when she came out
of the bathroom

semi clothed
he listened
but only half heartedly
he wanted

just to hear her voice
to sense her being there
her hand just inches
from his own

her body
a mere touch away
they passed by others
boys and girls

some at ball games
some just talking
some playing chasing games
laughter following

they reached the upper fence
of the grounds
and stood gazing out
at the passing traffic

the hills in the distance
the woods behind
she talked of a girl in class
whose sister was pregnant

and how the girl
was going to be
an auntie at 13
he took her hand

her thumb
rubbed his hand
she became silent
words stopped

she leaned in
and they kissed
lips touched
tongues tongued

hands held
squeezed
they parted
she looked back

at the sports field
he watched her profile
the way her dark hair
was brushed just so

and the cheek
the colouring
he sensed her hand
her fingers slim

he ran his thumb
over them
she looked back at him
and said

wonder what my mother
would say if she
could see me here?
naughty girl I guess

he said
and the rest
she said
what would your mother say?

poor girl probably
he said
she laughed
no seriously

I don't know
he said
as long as I was good to you
she wouldn't mind

and of course
not doing anything
I oughtn't
she gazed at him

such as?
she didn't say
he said
Christina looked back

at the sports field
maybe one day
we may find out
she said

yes maybe one day
he said
taking in her slim figure
clothed in the green skirt

and grey cardigan
her white ankle socks
laughter rose
from a ball game

some one called
a ring rang
from the school
it echoed around

the grounds
best go back
she said
back to the brain washing

he said
still he sensed her hand
in his
as they walked the grass

she in thought
until other girls came
and she went with them
leaving his hand behind

and he watched her go
her swinging hips
her fine figure
set him all aglow.

Auntie said
don’t go
too far away
with the mutt

I need to know
where you are
and so you
and the mutt

went down
the metal stairway
and off
into the barrack grounds

at Aldershot
keeping close
to the places
that your aunt

could see you from
and you could hear
soldiers marching
on the parade ground

and the sergeants
bellowing their orders
to the marching troops
and you sensed

the cold air
and frost
on the ground
as you walked

and the mutt sniffed
the earth
and you said
come on mutt

let’s go for a run
and off you went
and the mutt followed
and overtook you

its tail wagging
its eyes large
and brown
like pools of chocolate

and lucid like mud
and you raced him
as far as you could
then you had to stop

for breath
and the mutt
stopped too
and looked back at you

its tongue hanging
from the corner
of its mouth
and you looked over

to where your aunt lived
and realised
she wouldn’t
be able to see you

from where you were
and the dog didn’t care
and the air
was chilling

your lungs
and your tongue hung
in the corner
of your little boy mouth

and the soldiers marched
and marched
and you stood watching
bent over

with your hands
on your knees
and ******* birds
called out from the trees.

The exhaustion after the dance.
Aching of her feet, muscles stiff,
The pulsing of the music still there,
Vibrating along her tired young bones.  
The Stravinsky ballet takes it out of her.
Coco sits on the bench, stretches out
A leg, rubs along the shin. Eduard would
Have watched, would have studied each
Step, each leap, each pirouette. She can
Recall his finger running along her back,
The fingertip easing down between her
Buttocks. Oh, she says, out load, the other
Ballerina turning to note, ah, that touch,
That invasion. The other ballerina smiles
And turns away.  He will meet her after
The dance, will take her to the cafe, they
Will eat and talk and he will gaze and smile
And she will remember his touch and words
And the *** and the old woman downstairs
Banging up on her ceiling because of the
Noise of the bed, cries of joy, sensuous feeling.

Jane stood
in a field of kale
waist high
gazing toward

the Downs
you stood beside her
your hands
just touching

fingers feeling
warmth
cows nearby mooing
we’ll have to go up there

in the summer holidays
she said
take a picnic
mum’ll pack

it for us
she likes you
you gazed at her
sideways on

her dark hair
tied with ribbon
her grey coat
buttoned to the neck

coming to her knees
that’ll be good
you said
I went with my dad

way over one day
while he was working
amongst the trees
and I found small skeletons

amongst the fallen leaves
don’t what it was of though  
probably a squirrel
Jane said

or rabbit
did it look like
it could have been
a rabbit?

no idea
you said
it was small
could have been

a squirrel I guess
I put it in a glass tank
along with chalk rocks
with sea fossils inside

she nodded and smiled
she held your hand tighter
and she drew you
though the kale

toward the edge
of the field
where cows
were eating

the fenced off
kale crop  
and you walked
onto the dusty road

between hedgerows
and down the lane
by your cottage
the lane narrow

the hedges full of birds
and song
and you sensed
her hand in yours

her fingers thin
entwined with your fingers  
and on you walked
by the small stream

at the side
the smell
of the farm
in the air

the cows
and hay
and she there
beside you

her hand
and your hand
her coat sleeve
brushing against

your arm
her eyes
full of dark beauty
her lips slightly open

no words just breath
on the air
and you feeling
that joy of just

being alive
and being there.

Milka escaped
from the farmhouse
without
her mother seeing

so she said
and her brothers
were out fishing
so she persuaded

Benedict to allow her
to tag along behind
(beside) him
what about your mother?

he asked
o it will only be
chores she
wants doing

Milka said
they walked
to the place
where the peacocks

were kept
and stared
through the wire
at them

the colourful *****
but dull
as mud hens
making their calls

proudly walking
beautiful plumage
she drew up
close to Benedict

her hand hovering
near to his
but not touching
like a bird

in mid flight waiting
she talked
of the dullness
of the hens

and brightness
of the *****
he listened to her
smelling the perfume

she’d liberated
from her mother’s bag
he said he’d wanted
a job on a farm nearby

but he didn’t get it
she put her arm
under his
and squeezed

him close
she was glad
her brothers
were fishing

or they’d
be with Benedict instead
practising the judo
or karate out back

at the farm
she wanted him
to hold her tight
to draw her nearer

than she was
she’d put on
the shorter dress
when she saw him  

at the door
asking her mother
about her brothers
earlier that morning

and had rushed
to dress
to catch him
up the road

without her mother
seeing her go
they moved on
from the peacock place

and walked the road
and crossed a field
he touching her hand
the sky blue

and cloudless
he silent
she talking
of seeing

the latest
Elvis film
wanting him
to ask her out

but he didn’t
he climbed the style
and through the woods
by the small river

and his hand
holding hers
she feeling
his fingers

on her skin
his thumb rubbing
the back
of her hand

and maybe
she thought
he’ll stop
and kiss

and hold
but he didn’t
he walked on
through the woods

breathing in
the smell
of flowers
and water

and air
touched by birds
and heat
she wanting

a heaven
but having
firm earth
beneath her feet.

The way
Miss Manners

sat
on the school desk

when the teacher
was out

of the room
or before

he came in
hands on each side

of her thighs
flat

on the desk top
her white socks

hugging her carves  
and black shoes

toe touching
and the knees rubbing

each on each
and Boxy said

nudging you
giving her

the eye
wouldn’t mind being

her bicycle seat
and the sunlight

lit up her hair
angel like

sitting there you thought
the hands small

palms down
the fingers

slightly spread
the nails

pinkie white
unchewed

and Boxy whispered
bet she’s *******

his breath
easing out

sweetness
of bubblegum

wouldn’t mind
kissing her ***

he sniggered
there was

where the sunlight
caught her profile

that contrast
of light and shade

the nose
the lips

slight spread
and where

the sun lit her
a halo shone

around her
****** head.

Alice liked the soft
voice of her mother,
the telling of stories
as she fell into sleep.

She liked it when her
mother hugged her
tight and kissed her
goodnight. Her father

seldom came to story
tell or hug or kiss or
such; seemed it was
too much. His voice

was deep and harsh
as winds, his eyes
dark and shark like,
peering without those

feelings of love or
want or admittance
into his realm of deep
concern, cared neither

if she drowned nor
burned  nor if in her
dark hours she counted
unhappiness on her

fingers and toes; he
was her father, but
one of those. She liked
to hug and kiss her

doll, poor substitute
for a father's love,
it sitting there in hers
arms unblinking and

smile-less as her father
did; feelings not there
or if so, well hid. Alice
kissed her mother's brow,

her arms, her hands,
her fingers, too, what
was a deep sad fatherless
or seemingly so, girl to do

to bridge the space or gap,
but sleep in her mother's lap

You met Janice
going to Baldly's groceries
to get a list of goods
for your mother

how goes it?
you asked
Gran tanned
my backside yesterday

for going
on the bomb site
when she had told me
not to

Janice said
sorry I got
you into trouble
you said

not your fault
I’m responsible
for my own actions
she said

I knew Gran
had told me
not to go
but I chose

to disobey
so paid the price
guess she's annoyed
with me too

you said
I didn't say
who was with me
she said

how did she find out ?
a neighbour saw me
and told her
I was on a bomb site

with other kids
and that was it
where you going?
you asked

got to buy
some cereals
for breakfast
she said
going to Baldly's groceries

but not to get any
with those
free toys inside
why's that?

Gran said it's a gimmick
how about going
to the cinema
this afternoon?

you asked
can't
she said
not allowed

after yesterday
she said
shame
you said

got a good western on
and the good guy
has two guns
and has a neat way

of going for his guns
which I want to copy
and practice
she looked sad

I'd liked to
she said
but maybe
another time

when I'm out
of the dog house
sorry
about the trouble

I've landed you in
you said
my fault
mea culpa

as they say
in mass
mea culpa ?
you said

it means my fault
in Latin
she said
I got my backside tanned

once for peeing
in my toy box
you said
she looked shocked

peed in your toy box?
yes I was trying
to impress a cousin
but he told on me

and that was it
I never told
on you yesterday
she said

thank you
you said
she kissed your cheek
best get on

with the shopping
she said
ok
you said

and so she went
in Baldy's with you
and did the shopping
and afterwards

you walked back
your separate ways
after a few words of farewell
and a wave of hands

hoping to see her
again sometime
after her punishment
for the petty crime.

Janice’s gran
had left the room

to fetch another
*** of tea

and Janice said
Are you coming on

the day trip to the seaside?
I’m not sure

you replied
Oh please do

Janice said
Then we can be together

and I won’t have to spend time
with those giggly girls

from the gospel group
you looked at her fair hair

and the way her eyes
were on you

and how precise
her lips were

when she spoke
I’m not sure my parents

can afford it
you said

Oh it’s free for kids
whose parents are poor

she said
And after all

it’s part of the point
of the whole thing

to show Christian values
and so on

and she smiled
and put her hand

on yours
under the table

as her gran came in
with the teapot

What are you two
talking about?

Gran asked
putting the teapot

down on the table
Janice’s hand

squeezed yours
under the table

Oh just about the day trip
to the seaside

Janice said
Are you going too?

her gran asked you
you hesitated

and then said
Yes I think so

and Janice looked at you
her blue eyes bright

and she said
Isn’t that good Gran?

Yes indeed
her gran said

and poured tea
into your cup

and added milk
and sugar

and Janice’s hand
left yours

and the absence
of the warmth

of her hand
felt like

a dying world
in a vast galaxy

or drowning
in a deep blue sea.

Dalya met Baruch in Oslo,
a small cafe in a back street;
he was eating a cream cake

and coffee. She was fuming
over the Yank ***** that she
shared a tent with back at

base camp. It’s like sharing
with a scented skunk, she said.
Baruch listened, the fiery girl

sat opposite him, stirred her
latte, spat out words. Baruch
was halfway through the Gulag

book, the Solzhenitsyn eye
opener on the labour camps
of Russia. Dalya’s gripe seemed

pretty shallow; her language
left little to the imagination,
rough words, hard chipped,

chiselled out of rock sort of thing,
he thought, watching her mouth
move the words. Always about

the men she’s had, Dalya said,
as if I cared a monkey’s. Baruch
forked in more cake, fingered

off cream from his upper lip
and licked. They’d picked up
the American in Hamburg,

squeezed her into the overland
truck with the others. And oh,
yes, where she's been, Dalya said,

she’s been under the Pope’s
armpit, no doubt.  She sipped
the latte, stared at Baruch, her

eyes dark blue, her lips thin, her
hair dark and curled. Maybe she
has, Baruch said, but what’s it to

you? I have to hear her jabbering
on in the tent night after night,
Dalya said, and me trying to get

to sleep. You can always swap with
me, he said, she can share with
the Aussie prat, who’s in with me.

She didn’t reply, but looked at her
latte, stirred with the plastic spoon.
And what would my brother say?

He’d tell the parents when we got
home. Baruch knew her brother
wouldn’t have minded, he was often

drinking and drunk till blinded.
Baruch had only suggested it in
jest, nothing really meant, but she
was preferable to the Aussie in his tent.

After climbing off
the school bus
she grabbed the sleeve

of your coat and said
I want to talk to you
and so you stayed behind

as your sister and hers
walked on ahead
and her brothers ran off

in a game of tag
she released your sleeve
and brushed the hair

out of her eyes
what is it? you asked
walking beside her

along the side of the road
the winter afternoon darkening
what was Roland

saying to you in class?
she asked
Roland?

yes Roland
in the last lesson of maths?
you looked over

at the tall trees
becoming tall giants
as the sky began to dim

he was talking about his sister
you said
then why was he looking at me?

perhaps he finds you attractive
you replied
she slapped your arm

with her hand
don’t talk nonsense
he wouldn’t find

Marilyn Monroe attractive
if she sat
on his bony knees

she said looking at you
with her big blue eyes
you rubbed

your injured arm
playfully
he was saying his sister

had found his collection
of ***** magazines under his bed
you said

a car whizzed by
and she turned
and shouted back at it

some words her mother
would have slapped her
for saying

she sighed and said
why can’t you tell me the truth?
you stopped and stood facing her

her blue eyes gazing at you
searching yours
as if she’d left something there

on a previous occasion
he said he didn’t know
what I saw in you

her eyes enlarged
and what did you say?
she asked

in the sky over her shoulder
the moon was beginning to shine
in competition

with the weak sun
I said you snogged
pretty good

you said
she slapped your arm
and walked on

no
you called out
I was only joking

she stopped
and turned
and glared at you

I said you were the best thing
to happen to me
since God created Sundays

you’re lying
she said
all right

you said
seeing her eyes watering
I said I loved you

you said
looking at her
wondering if her hand

might slap you again
did you?
yes

and what did he say?
she asked
he just shrugged

his shoulders
and drew a picture
of Mr Parrot on the corner

of his maths book
she was silent
and looked by you

at the incoming traffic
then kissed your cheek
leaving a damp patch

like a small oasis
on a dry landscape
of your 14 year old skin

conjuring up images
her mother
would define as sin.

Hannah and I
lie on the grass
by Arrol House

she shows me
a penknife
her father'd brought
home for her

a thin bladed one
with a white handle
it's in the palm
of her hand balancing

it looks good
I say

that's not what
Mum said when Dad
brought it home
Hannah says

what did she say?
I ask

Whit did ye brin'
'at haem fur?
she said

what did your
dad say?

nothing he pretended
he was deaf
and just gave me
the knife and went
and sat in his armchair
and read his newspaper

how do you understand
what your mum is saying?
I'm never sure
if she's being angry
with me or if
that's just her
being nice

probably the former
she's seldom
nice to people
Hannah says

she puts the knife
in the pocket
of her skirt
and says
where we going then?

we can stay here
if you like
I say
lying in the sun
and talking

o sure
and have my mum
peering out
the window at us
saying
whit ur ye tois
up tae?  

I fall back laughing
what's that mean?

it's what are you
two up to?
Hannah says
no let's go
through the Square
and get an ice lolly
and 1d drink
and look at
the cheap shop
on the New Kent Road

so we up and go
over the mental fence
and through the Square
and go buy
our ice lollies
and 1d drinks

and I wonder
as we walk
what her mother
says and thinks.

Lydia
unwraps her
Kit Kat bar
and breaks off
a finger
and eats it

I watch her
like some pup
hoping she
will break off
a finger‭
for Benny

it's morning
the sun bright
coming through
the narrow gap
between flats

she bites off
more finger
her small teeth
less white now

want a bit‭?
she asks me
offering
half finger

that'd be nice
I reply

I take it
and mouth it
and eat it
explosion
of biscuit
chocolate
and sweetness

she eats more
as we walk
through the Square

my sister's
Lydia
informs me

you stole it‭?

borrowed it
I’ll buy one
just for her
when I can

does she know‭?
I ask her

not just yet
but I will
I promise

she gives me
a finger
of chocolate
I’m paid off

now she eats
the last piece
******* up
the paper
she puts it
in the small
dress pocket

it's all gone
we the two
partakers
of the crime
lick our lips
and walk on

it was nice
the feeling
the warm taste
chocolate
crisp biscuit

won't she know‭?
I ask her

not just yet
too busy
in our bed
she tells me
with the Spiv
smart boyfriend

we walk down
the wide *****
from the Square
gazing up
Meadow Row
where the Sun
smiles at us

Ingrid knows
the absence
of real love,

she 's known it
all 9 years
of her life.

Her mother's
indifference,
her father's

strict and cruel
attention,
the beatings,

the cold stares,
the loud shouts,
the harsh threats,

promises
of spankings.
There is just

the one love:
Benedict
from along

the narrow
balcony
of the flats,

9 years old,
brave of heart,
with his sword

painted blue
(his old man
had made it),

false silver
6 shooter,
cap firing

toy hand gun,
gun holster,
leather belt,

with wide grin,
hazel eyes,
with talk of

cowboy films,
Robin Hood,
Ivanhoe,

and she his
pretty Maid
Marian,

so he  says
or cowgirl
borrowing

his rifle,
to shoot down
bad cowboys

or Injuns.
He takes her
to his haunts:

the bomb sites,
the bombed out
old buildings,

the play parks,
cinemas
to watch films

in the dark,
feeling safe
beside him.

He has seen
her bruises,
her medals

of beatings,
the red welts
on her skin;

understands
the reasons,
who did it,

but not why;
giving her
cruel father

the cold eye
or hard sneer
when he sees

her father
in the Square
or passing

on the stair,
*******
two digits

(up you pal)
gesturing
behind her

father's back.
Ingrid knows
the absence

of real love,
she known it

all 9 years
of her life;
except for

Benedict,
her young knight
with blue sword,

and one day,
when they're grown
and left home,

she'll be his
pretty Maid
Marian

love and wife,
so she dreams
in her bed

in the night
of her sad
childhood life.

Benedict
saw Yiska
by the trees

on the school
playing field
at the top

in the shade
from the sun
some boys were

kicking ball
in a game
girls sat in

groups talking
or laughing
Benedict

walked the field
where Yiska
was standing

by the trees
all alone?
he asked her

she nodded
glad you came
wasn't sure

if you'd come
she told him
your brother said

you'd be here
Benedict
informed her

it's quiet
by the trees
and maybe

we can go
in the wood
if no one

is looking
Yiska said
Benedict

looked behind
where she stood

at the small
area
called the wood

must look out
for prefects
who come here

looking out
for couples
we'll look out

she replied
they looked back
at the school

playing field
all was clear
no one looked

so they went
in the wood
at least here

we can kiss
without eyes
seeing us

Yiska said
so they kissed
she with arms

round his neck
and his arms
round her waist

lips to lips
her fingers
soft stroking

his right ear
his fingers
soft touching

her behind
then her thigh
it was their

longest kiss
on the lips
neither breathed

(or so seemed)
then parted
and stood back

and studied
each other
she took in

hazel eyes
quiff of hair
Elvis smile

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

of body
the longest
that we've kissed

Yiska said
two prefects
he whispered

and they hid
in bushes
in the wood

silently
as two male
prefects walked

past them both
hiding there
once they'd gone

they crept out
of the wood
by the top

near the fence
that was close
Yiska said

Benedict
smiled and said
yes it was

lips to lips
recalling
his fingers

soft touching
her behind
and her thigh

releasing
a warming
and deep sigh.

Helen looked up
at the rain drenched sky
as you both stood
under the extended roof

of the coal wharf
off of Meadow Row
she had on
her dark blue raincoat

with the hood
which was over
her head
and her thick lens glasses

enlarged her eyes
as she peered out
looks like
it’s in for the day

you said
pulling your coat
around you
to keep out

the chill
just as well
I didn’t bring my doll
Battered Betty

she said
she hates the rain
you stared out
at the downpour

it seemed endless
why does it have to rain
on a Saturday?
Why not a school day?

you said
Helen took off
her glasses
and wiped them

on a small white
handkerchief
you watched her
as she wiped them

her small hands
at work
the glasses
being cleaned

and cleared
you look pretty
when you’re wet
you said

she looked at you
do I?
she said
sure you do

you said
but not otherwise?
she asked
you looked at her

as she put on
her glasses again
well you look prettier
you added

staring once more
at the rain
no one’s said
I was pretty before

she said
they usually
call me four eyes
or horsey teeth

well you’re pretty
you said shyly
not wanting to get in
too deep

a horse drawn
coal wagon
went by
as you both stood

beneath
the extended roof
the horse trotting
along in the puddles

on the cobblestones
the driver
staring sternly
into the pouring rain

you wiped raindrops
from your nose
and flicked them
into the air

am I really?
she asked
gazing at you
the hood of her coat

framing her face
yes
you said
and your teeth

are fine
don’t worry
what others say
and she put

her arm under yours
as you looked away.

Xenia has never felt so low,
Xenia has bathed and scrubbed,
but still feels unclean.

She wants him unsexed
from her body
his kisses removed
from lips and skin,
and those places within.

She wants to wash him away,
watch all aspects of him ,
drain down the plughole
with a big slurp,
feel her flesh tingle
with cleanness,
but she still senses him there
on skin, in hair, in her memory,
he’s still there.

Xenia wants
to unkiss his kisses,
untouch his touches,
his caresses. She sits and broods,
thinks of past times,
of him and those days,
those deeds done.

Xenia wants to be reborn,
be as new, be unaware
he existed or exists,
how long and big
her want to happen
and not lists.

She recalls
his blows, his punches
to out of the way places
(he never hits faces)
his cruel torments,
foul words,
poking finger,
poke poke poke,
the endless
taunting joke.

She feels so unclean,
so tainted, so used,
so undone.

There’s a bird singing
from outside her window,
a church bell rings,
from next door
a baby cries.

She closes her eyes,
something within her
hunches up and dies.

She rises from bed and stares
out the window. Another day.
No new horizons. Why do
people talk such crap, she muses,

senses the hangover bite in.
He said it was just a *** thing,
no strings, see what a new
tomorrow brings. Her mother

had this thing about what the
neighbours said, how things
looked from another’s perspective.  
There is a damp patch where

her hand has touched, blood,
bright red. She sees him or rather
his outline in the dark of the night
before. All ten minutes of excitement,

a two-bit joy. Her hand runs over
the patch, feels the stickiness.
Depression digs in its feet, plunges
in its dark claws, rips through her

sense of being, sees the outside
city, no real care, no pity, just what
is she seeing? Shadows and outlines,
people, cars, streets, sun, clouds,

business out there. She wants her
mother back, the loss of all those
years ago, lingering in the back of
her mind and center of her heart.

Depression and the black dog tear
All things and love and life apart.

You should have been
at my place
breakfast time
O’Brien said to you

in the playground
after double maths
with Miserable Morris
we’ve got my little cousin Millie

staying for a week
and she said
this morning
as we were sitting eating

what was Uncle
doing to you
in bed last night Auntie?
doing?

my mother said
in a squeaky voice
yes
Millie went on

he was on top of you
making big bear noises
and you were making
squeaky noises

like piggy
going to market
market?
my father muttered

almost choking
like we saw on TV
the other night
Millie said

just a game
my mother said
going red
I stared at Millie

waiting for more
what were you doing
out of bed?
my father asked

I wanted a glass of water
Millie replied
and stood
by your open door

and saw you
in the moonlight
from the window
fun game

my mother said
just fun
I smiled
said O’Brien

watching the parents
drowning over
their tea and toast
he guffawed

and Eddie joined
in his blonde hair
shaking as he moved
but you tried

to picture the scene
wondering what his parents
were doing in bed
in the moonlight

making animals noises
causing Millie concern
and guessed
it was some game

they played
as adult did
sometimes captured
but mostly hid.

Father James took
you and Gareth
and George
postulant monks

to a convent
in Newport
he had mass to serve
and confessions

to hear
so you were all
shown into a parlour
with the smell

of home bake bread
and starched sheets
and a young nun
came in

carrying a tray
with teapot
and cups
and sugar bowl

and jug of milk
all in a dull white
and as she set
the tray down

on the table
her eyes moved
from each one of you
taking in no doubt

young novices
in the training
the plain clothes
the black and white

the neat cut hairs
the shaven chins
and then she smiled
and went her way

no wiggling of hips
or female sway
carrying the tray
and Gareth spoke

of Wittgenstein
and the Tractatus
Logico Philosophicus
while George took in

the tidiness
of the room
the ****** smell
the taste

of aging flesh
while you half listened
on Wittgenstein
and the scent

of passing youth
remembering
the young nun’s smile
awaiting truth.

Enid's old man
gives me the stare
as we pass
on the stair

I know he's
whacked her
for sure
after the cinema date

and coming back late
but he says nothing
his the silent glare
as if he could scare

I walk on up
and he goes down
that cocky way
he has of

walking away
that Bogart stare
to my Elvis smile
at least for a while

I look down at him
from the balcony
as he crosses
the Square

and off out
of sight to
work or play
as any other day

I wait to be sure
he won't return
then go to Enid's door
and knock and wait

no one comes
all is quiet
no answer
to my knock

so I knock again
and her mother comes
and pokes her head
around the door

and says
what do you want?
how's Enid?
I ask

best go
or her father'll know
and give us
both another blow

I stand my ground
and give her a stare
where is she?
is she ok?

her mother sports
a blackened eye
he might return
she says

he's gone
I watched him go
I say
she sighs

and calls
ENID
and walks past me
to the balcony

and looks over
Enid comes to the door
red eyed
and a swollen lip

can you come out
and play?
I ask
her mother

walks back
to the door
and says
not today

now go away
I lean towards Enid
and kiss her cheek
and touch her hand

see you around Kid
I say
then her mother
closes the door

and reluctantly
I go away.

Fay met you
on your way home
from school
standing by the entrance

of Meadow Row
she was in her school uniform
a satchel
over a shoulder

how was school?
she asked
boring and the day
too long

you replied
but at least
you can learn things
she said

like how
to make a candle
holder in woodwork?
finding some river

in India
I’ll never see?
you said
she smiled shyly

well maybe you will
she said
how are you?
you asked

ok
she replied
got told off
by Sister Bernard

for not having a ruler
what did you do
with your ruler?
you asked

lost it
she said
ah well
there you are

you said
naughty naughty
she walked on
down Meadow Row

and you walked
beside her
actually
she said quietly

my daddy took it
she stood still
and stared at you
he beat me

with it
she said
in a whisper
you looked

into her eyes
and saw your
reflection there
two yous

staring back
why?
you asked
taking in her paleness

her fair hair tied
in a ponytail
he said l hadn’t done
my jobs properly

jobs?
you asked
around the house
helping my mum

and did you? help?
yes usually
but I forgot
this time

big crime
you said
won’t he give
the ruler back?

no
she said
he said he will keep it
as a lesson to me

can’t you buy
a new one?
you asked
I haven’t any money

she said
you can have
one of mine
you said

I have plenty at home
can I borrow one?
you can have one
she smiled weakly

her eyes lit up
and she took one
of your hands
and held it

I’ll have to hide it though
she said
or he’ll take
that one too

quite a guy your dad
you said
she looked away
at the bombed out houses

on the left hand side
you saw her hurt
and sadness
some things you can’t hide.

Shamira
said to me
come for lunch

so I told
my mother
I'll be out
for my lunch
this Sunday

Shamira's
parent's place
was empty

just us two
sitting there
eating lunch
drinking wine

I can play
piano
I know
some
Beethoven
if you like?

Ok then
I replied

so she did
and I watched
her fingers
moving on
the keyboard

Beethoven's
Fur Elise
sounded well
after that
and a short
Chopin piece

how about
some dessert?
I asked her

have we time?
she replied
my parents
may return
anytime

always time
for dessert
I told her

so we went
to her room
and undressed
and began

then we heard
her parent's
car pull in
the front drive

o my God
she uttered
and we stopped
and got dressed

she uptight
my pecker
all distressed.

The loud shush of the steam train shush shush and grey steam turning white shushing out from beneath the train and out of here and there of the huge black dragon and O the power of it Benny says sitting beside Lydia on Kings Cross Railway Station on a seat aged and discoloured watching the steam rise up and upwards and breathing in the smell of the train and steam and she sits with her small hands together between her knees poking out of her white dress with blue flowers her small hands pushing out of her corn blue coloured cardigan her fingers pressing against each other fingertips on fingertips will this train go to Edinburgh? she asks will this train go to Edinburgh? I think so Benny says Ill ask he says and leaps up and goes along the platform and seeing a porter with a trolley stops him and asks the porter glad to rest for a few moments eyes Benny and says yes it does and takes over six hours or more and seeing the boy standing there eyes hazel and bright and the quiff of hair why are you thinking of going? the porter asks smiling revealing a number of teeth missing no not today Benny says noting the absent teeth of the porter or rather the teeth remaining and trying to count the teeth but the porter closes his mouth and smiling walks off with his trolley so Benny walks back to Lydia on the seat yes it does the porter says six hours or more to get there he says thats a long time Lydia says longer than I sleep or my big sister and she can sleep a long time especially if shes been out until the early hours- her mother calls it ******* but Lydia knows nothing of what it means and never bothered to ask-he asked if am I going to Edinburgh and I said not today but it seems exciting to think we could go just get on the train without anyone seeing us and sit in a carriage on our own and if the ticket collector man comes we can say our parents are in the dining car and he might go off and we could go to Edinburgh Benny says smiling at Lydia and she looking at him taking in his grey sleeveless jumper and the white shirt and blue jeans and do you think we could? she says were only nine you and me and Im sure the ticket man would think it odd we were alone while our parents were in the dining car and we were sitting in the carriage alone Benny looks at the train and the steam and the powerfulness of it and says lets get nearer lets get as close as we can and she says all right but not too near Daddy says not too near ok Benny says and they walk as near to the train as they can sensing the powerfulness of the train all the more and the smell of it filling their lungs and been says isnt that great? yes it is Lydia says and reaching out to try and catch some steam but it flows through her fingers and even as she claps her hands together the steam escapes and goes on its journey upwards what do you think? Benny asks Edinburgh today? just us he watches her standing there beside him thin and pale and her hair lank and straight and her eyes peering at him its along way she says her eyes getting larger her mouth opening to a wide oval six hours or more he says although we could sleep maybe sleep until were there where to sleep? she asks rubbing her fingers together nervously wont we get hungry? she asks we never brought food or drink and Ive no money left to buy any she says looking at him wanting him to say it didnt matter they would find food some place but he looks at her and says we can sleep in the carriage our heads against the seat backs or lying down on the seats and food? she says what about that? he looks at her maybe I can get some from the dining car someone might leave things he says rolls or butter you never know what people may leave do you think we could? she says moving closer to him wanting him to say yes of course we could its going to be all right but he looks at the train and the long carriages filling with passengers and the windows having faces looking out at them and says maybe another day when we have some food with us and bottles of drink  and a change of clothes he says got to have change of clothing I havent much to change into she says Mum never gets it done in time some days and I have to wear clothes day after day we can plan it he says make sure it goes to plan with food and clothes and drink and money I can get some Benny says be better then we can go to Edinburgh then like it is on the billboards she looks at him feeling he is right and she does feel it would be a bit of a risky going today without a change of clothing especially knickers she needs those she muses not sure of how much clothing she might need depending she supposes on how long they go for and where to stay once they get there where to stay that is the question she asks herself and she takes Benny hand in hers and says yes another time when as you say we have food and clothes and money and drinks he nods and rubs her hand and says its long way off but we will go yes we will she says excitedly wanting to go that day but yes we will wait to go some other time and they look at the train as it gives out a huge shush of steam like a ******* dragon and they stand back as it gets louder and more powerful and a guard with a green flag waves it wildly and the train huffs away shush shush it goes steam rising and outward like grey white snow.

Whatever you thought
of the modern art
you never said
you were impassive

your eyes or features
betraying nothing
you studied the art work
in your usual calmness

no ****** expression
no raised eyebrows
no tut-tutting
even the dead sheep

in the glass case
didn't put you off
or raise
emotive response

you eyed everything
walking slow
holding the programme
bought at the door

looking at each
as you went by
after a while
we moved along

to the small café
in the gallery
and had drinks
and sandwiches

and you talked
in your soft
open manner
not of art

or what we'd seen
but of work
and what you did
and unfolded things

like a magician
without revealing
secrets of it all
then we moved on

and you
were silent again
into the other rooms
of modern art

the Picassos
and Mondrians
and others
you taking photo shots

with your mobile phone
eyeing all the art
showing no emotion
no tilt of head

or wide-eyed
revelation
of surprise
just your own way

of appreciation son
your own
gentle way
of moving between

what is good or great
or seemingly crap
with the calmness
of a swan

through water
your depth
drinking it all in
with no pretence

or show
just that inner knowing
what you liked
and didn't

I am glad
you came with me
that day
the Tate Modern

wouldn't have been
the same somehow
your silence
your calm taking in

of art
your secret
appreciation
made it all

worth while
some way
but now
your untimely death

my son
makes it seem all
the more worth while
that day

that art
the shared time together
but I'd give
any Mondrian

or Picasso art away
just to be with you again
if only
for one more day.

Auntie cut the rind
off the bacon
and offered it
to the dog

but before the dog
could put his lips to it
you made off with it
down the cast iron stairs

beside the barrack block
and the dog followed you
barking as it did so
and once you reached the ground

you went off
onto the grass
and the dog
chased you

and jumped up at you
trying to reach
the bacon rind
you held between fingers

and Auntie called over
the metal rail
let the mutt have it
don’t tease him

and so you bit
the rind in half
and gave the mutt one half
and ate the other yourself

but sometimes after Auntie
put the bacon rind
in the dog’s bowl
you picked it up

and tossed it
over the balcony rail
onto the ground below
and the dog raced down

the stairs after it
but now and then
you pretended
to toss it over

and after the dog
raced off
you would hold it
over the side of the rail

and called to the mutt
and said
I still got it mutt
and the dog raced back

up the stairs
and you sat there
on the metal landing
and the dog came

and licked and nuzzled you
and you gave the dog
the bacon rind  
and he licked you

and wagged its tail
and Auntie called out
what are you up to?
what are you doing now?

Mamie met you
in the base camp bar

in Malaga
her curly red hair

damp from a recent shower
and said

Picasso was born here  
In this bar?

you said
No

she moaned
In the city

in 1881
and she took the drink

you’d bought her
I like Picasso don’t you?

she asked
taking a sip

of the drink
and you noticed

the tight tee shirt
snugly holding

her firm *******
and her eyes bright

as sunlight’s breaking dawn
yes

you said
I like his later work

not the Blue
or Pink period or

that Cubist *****
and your eyes

slipped downwards
along her slender frame

the tight blue jeans
caressing her small

but plumpish ***
her fingers holding

the glass
and you thinking

of other things
far removed

from Picasso‘s art
though knowing he

would understand
where your mind

had wandered
and what the scene

your mind had set
like some dramatist

preparing for a play
she sipped more

of the drink
her head thrown back

the nice turn
of the neck

the chin
the nose

the ears protruding slight
between her red

and curly hair
and wondered deep

as you drank your own
if the other hair below

between her thighs
was as red and tight

as that above
and she said

breaking through
your thoughts

Was it lust or love
that moved his brush

Picasso I mean?
and oh you mused

taking on her words
and squeezing

the meaning
from each syllable

that was uttered
on her breath

to lay my head
upon her breast

not to sleep
but dreaming rest

and you turning to her
said High love or low lust

fed by his fond muse
moved his brush I trust.

Miryam stands beside
two Arabs
and a camel
to be photographed.
Baruch presses
the shutter
of the camera
and the scene
is captured.

She pays
the two young men
and they walk off
with the camel
talking in
their own tongue.

She adjusts the bikini top.
Brauch puts away the camera.
Someone said
they expect to be paid,
she says.
Why not,
Baruch says,
watching her fiddle
with her bikini bottom,
her fine behind.

The Moroccan beach
is deserted, except
for the departing men
and camel further
along the beach.

She complains of the heat,
fingers her fuzzy hair,
stares at Baruch,
scratches her nose,
gives a Monroe pose,
hands on hips.
Take me like this,
she says.

He obliges.
He shutters the camera,
his eyes capture,
stores away her image,
in more ways
than one.

She talks of his drinking
into the small hours
in that Tangier's
night club
the guide took them to,
the belly dancer,
the snake charmer.

On the way back
to the camp
in the back
of the truck
with the others,
he remembers,
the kissing,
the embracing,
stirring his pecker.

She talks
of the early morning sky,
the smell of kebabs,
her feeling heady,
how she thought
he'd come to her tent.

Too tired,
he says,
besides I had to think
of your reputation.
Others would know.

I'm not a nun,
she says,
getting me stirred up
and then leaving to stew.

They walk hand in hand
along the beach,
the tide coming in,
touching their feet.
She talks of her parents,
medical professionals,
the boy she had a crush on
who went off
with someone else.

Baruch feels her pulsing
along the wrist,
his fingers holding there.

She talks of the other evening
when they came down there
to escape the noisy party
at the camp, the dancing,
the music, the wine.

He recalls the darkness,
the deep tuffs of grass
before the beach
was reached,
she and him,
kissing, embracing,
moonlight shining,
stars like scattered
sparkling diamonds.

No one missed us,
she says,
no one knew
about me and you.

He remembers
the echo of music
over head,
the gentle breeze,
distant voices,
her murmurings,
sound of sea
upon the beach,
both feeling
and touching,
giving pleasure,
each to each.

We sat on top
of the old bomb shelter
on the grass
outside Banks House

evening was creeping in
sky darkening
moon showing
lights on
in the flats
above us

Lydia said
I’ll have to go soon
or my mum'll be
on the  war path
me being out still
and school tomorrow

just a few more minutes
I said

a steam train
went over
the railway bridge
over the way
by the Duke of Wellington pub

I love the smell of trains
she said
if I close my eyes
I think I’m on a train
to Scotland or the seaside

we could go
to Paddington train station
I said
I think trains to Scotland
go from there

Lydia looked at me
do they?

yes I' sure they do
I said

she smiled
could we go there
some day?

what Scotland?
I said

no silly
to Paddington station
she said laughing

sure we can
she looked away
and at the moon
above us
stars were visible

best go
she said
or Mum'll
be after me

ok
but we'll make
Paddington
maybe Saturday?

I'll ask Mum
Lydia said
or maybe Dad
he'll know
which trains
go there

we stood up
and climbed down
the bomb shelter
onto the grass
and walked along
by the flats

and maybe one day
she said suddenly
we can go
to Scotland

sure we will
I said

and she seemed happy
about that
and we climbed
the metal fence
and walked up
the *****
and into the Square
and I walked her
to her front door

she knocked
and her mother
opened the door

you're late
she said sternly

we've been talking
Lydia said softly

her mother looked at me
with her stern eyes

it's late
the moon's out
and there's
school tomorrow

Lydia frowned
and walked in
and her mother
shut the door

I walked off
and up the stairs
to my parent's flat
thinking of Scotland
and Lydia and me
and the sky darkened
like a deep moonlit sea.

Betty sips her drink and crosses
her legs and wonders if Chowbrew

will ever come as he said he would
and as she has been waiting for

over an hour she thinks he’s not
coming, thinks he’s gone off with

another. She sighs. All that time getting
ready, putting on the new dress,

making sure she’d put on fresh
underwear, showered, washed

her hair, filed her nails and still
he hasn’t come. Betty, her mother

used to say, men are like buses,
if one doesn’t turn up another’ll soon

show, but it didn’t follow in her

experience; if one didn’t show,
she’d be left waiting until the bright

moon shone and the shining stars
flickered in the dark night sky, and

then she’d go home to bed, tuck
herself under the duvet, pull it

over head, and cry or swear or
maybe both. She looks at her

wristwatch.  He isn’t going to
come; she mutters to the air,

he’s left me out to dry, all that
time I wasted; now I’m going

to cry. Betty, her mother often
said, men have only one thing

in mind, oh, yes, they’ll bring
you flowers, chocolates, buy

you a meal, get you drunk,
but at the end of it all, it’s

getting you into bed that they
are after, and she remembers,

in the background her father’s soft
laughter. She empties her glass

and is just about to leave, when
a breathless Chowbrew stumbles

into sight, face flushed, clothes in
disarray, Sorry I’m late, got the

wrong cinema, she hears him say.
What an ****, she muses, what a

prat, doesn’t know where he’s
going or what he’s at, but at least

he’s here, she smiles and says,
Good to see you, Chowbrew dear.

That monk
in the refectory
of the abbey,

bespectacled
with dark curly hair
like a cissy girl,

gave me the stare
as if I shouldn't be there,
but maybe

he wasn't
looking at me at all,
perhaps at the opposite wall

or a monk behind me
who stared back at him
with equal stare

wishing maybe
he wasn't there.
I cleaned the bogs

on the second floor,
swept the cloister
as if some

holy street
or one of them
in Jerusalem

where He once walked
or strolled with others
before the Roman's

did Him in.
The old peasant monk
sharpened his scythe

on the narrow stone,
before continuing
to cut the tall grass,

lonesome looking,
humble, God blessed,
as if not alone.

You walked home
from school
with Sutcliffe
(O’Brien was off

with dysentery
which Eddie thought
was a load of ****)
along the New Kent Road

by the shop from which
you bought
a stamp album
and the silver looking

6 shooter gun
and holster
with the belt
with pretend bullets

all around
in little holders
and Eddie said
his big sister

was beginning to spend
too much time
in the washroom
getting herself

all geared up
for her boyfriend
and that his dad
banged on the door

wanting to get in
for his shave
( she’d used all
the hot water

her mother had boiled
in the copper
for the family bath
that night

and his sister
had bellowed back
I’ve got to look my best
I can’t go out

smelling
like a dead rat
and Eddie laughed
(his buck teeth showing)

and Dad told her
she’d feel his hand
across her backside
if she got  

too mouthy with him
so she shut her noise
and came out
all dolled up you

her hair all piled high
her lipstick bright red
her tight skirt
and Dad said

if you think you’re going out
dressed like that
you can think again
but she did

and that was it
and Mum said to him
she's only young once
but he just shaved

and moaned
and I could hear him
muttering to himself
and so Eddie went on

(O’Brien would have
baited him about his sister
would have riled him bad
but he was away

and Eddie was glad)
and so you got
to the corner
of Deacon Way

where Sutcliffe lived
and so you walked
across the road
to Meadow Row

and he waved
and you watched
his blonde cropped hair
and black uniform

disappear from sight
and walked towards home
hands in pockets
satchel on your back

scuffed shoes
kicking stones
onto the bombsite
home to tea

of bread and jam
then out with Ingrid
on the balcony
looking down

over the ledge
at the people passing
or kids playing
making a din

until her father
called her
with his rough voice
and she went back in.

It was sports day
at high school

and the field and tracks
were crowded with

teachers and kids
and the sun was out

causing sweat
and heat rash

and Reynard said to you
that girl who fancies your ***

is waving to you
over by the small wood

of trees and bushes
so you looked over

and saw Christina
waving a hand at you

leaping up and down
her short gym skirt

rising and falling
as she leaped

showing off
now and then

her dark green *******
mind she don’t eat you

Reynard said
and walked off

to watch the races
as you wandered over

to where she stood
at the edge

of the small wood
don’t you look

the **** beast
in your black shorts  

she said
eyeing you over

her right hand smoothing
down your white tee shirt

are you running?
she asked

yes a short sprint
you replied

anything more than that
and I’m buggered

she looked at the field
holding her hands

in front of her
and you gazed

at her white legs
and white ankle socks

and black plimsolls
I’m in the relay race

she said
I‘ll have to watch

to see when my turn comes
then she turned to you

and said
have you been inside the wood?

you looked behind you
no not so far have you?

yes we went there
in science looking for bugs

and such
she said

maybe you could show me
you said

what?
bugs and flowers

and butterflies
you replied

she smiled at you
maybe but teachers might be watching

or other kids or prefects
and what if my brother Cedric

sees us enter
and tells my parents?

just a science tour
to see all nature’s gifts

you said
tell them that

if any see us go
and you watched her

fumble with her fingers
looking around the field

and whispered softly
no.

Shish kebabs
shish kebabs
that's all they have
Miriam said
as she sat
at the bar
of the base camp
in Morocco

I sat smoking
and drinking a Bacardi
they do salads
I said
in long French loaves
I have those
they’re healthier
and quite filling

she looked down
her nose
can't just have salad
she said
must have meat
of some kind

well don't look at me
I’m too skinny
for a decent meal

she laughed
and sat  
closer to me
at the bar
can you get me a drink?

sure what you having?

same as you

ok
Bacardi and coke it is
so I asked
the bar keep
for her drink  
and he went off
to get it
a cigarette hanging
from his lower lip
what did you think
of the belly dancer
last night?
I asked

not my thing
she said
but I see you liked it

yes it was a good experience
heard about them
but never
seen one before
last night
I said
the bar keep
brought her drink
and I paid him
he went off
and I said
how did you sleep?

not good
I had Moaning Minnie
with me
and she moaned
because I came in
the tent at 3am
what time
do you call this?
she moaned
some of us
are trying to sleep
she moaned on
for ages after
I think she was moaning still
in her dreams
I suppose you slept?
she said

yes I crept in my tent
and fell asleep over
my suitcase
I was too **** tired
to move it
and the ex-army guy
was zeroed

lucky you

not really
I would rather
have had you there
than him
snoring like some bear  

what makes you think
I’d sleep with you?

you did the other night
after the beach party

she sipped her drink
and looked
at the menu card
that was different
she said

yes it was
I said
we went in your tent
and Moaning Minnie
came in
and turfed me out

Miriam smiled
if she'd come
five minutes earlier
she'd have got
an eyeful

yes that
would have been
a bundle of laughs

Miriam ordered
a salad roll
and sipped
her Bacardi and coke  

I sipped mine
and enjoyed my smoke.

We discovered
the tents leaked
in Nakskov
and Dalya said

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and lit one
of my own
and she said
I suppose

I could share
with Yorkshire girl
despite her
constant yak

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

of beer
and Lifebuoy soap
who told
pathetic jokes

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

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

to give
an interested look.

Mrs Clarke pushed
her battered bassinet
between market stalls

not listening
to the stallholder’s
shouts and calls

Helen walked behind her mother
as told holding your hand
So I know where you are

Mrs Clarke had said
you sensed
Helen’s small hand

in yours
her seven year old skin
touching your

seven year old flesh
her thin fingers
encircling yours

We’ll see if they’ve got
a school skirt
for you here

her mother said
turning back her head
Helen nodded

and you noticed
Helen’s enlarged eyes
behind her thick lens

spectacles
searching her mother’s
large behind waddling on

stopping now and then
beside stalls
picking up clothes

searching for a skirt or dress
grey and the right size
Helen whispered to you

putting her head
close to yours
Rice pudding for tea

when we get home
with red jam
and sugar too

if you want
and she smiled
and you said shyly

That’s good
because I’m starving
she looked at your hand

in hers and said
Then we can play
mums and dads

and my dolls
can be our family
her mother stopped

and picked up a skirt
and held it up
to the light

then held it against
her daughter’s waist
judging for size

and you watched
her mother’s hands
red with washing

and cleaning
thinking and gauging
the size and cost

as you studying
Helen’s hand in yours
like a soul lost.

I waited by the pond-or lake as Yehudit called it being a romantic- staring across the skin of the water. Dragonflies hovered over the still surface like miniature helicopters, then took off zigzagging this way and then that. Ducks swam by on the other side gliding on the surface and now and then ducking under the water like upturned boats. Yehudit said yesterday to meet at the lake. I'll be there, Baruch, she said-she Herbrewizes  my name sometimes, most call me Benny-, even if I have to sneak out of a window. Some days her mother makes it difficult for her to get out before chores, and as it was the start of the summer school holidays, she was more firmer than ever about getting chores done. I looked at the bushes across the water leading into the woods that way. Behind me were more bushes and trees of the other part of the wood. There was an area secluded from the rest behind me where Yehudit and I had made love a couple of times. Even though it was secluded we were always on the listen for sounds, for foot steps or human voices. One time a grey squirrel spied on us as we were making love, stood on a branch and watched us for a few moments like some hairy voyageur. I stood with my hands in the pockets of my blue jeans, my white shirt open at the neck and loose from my jeans trying to act the cool kid. On the way to the pond I had passed cows in a field, avoiding cow pats, unsure if one of them might be a bull. I walked past the secluded area wondering we could have been seen by anyone passing by. I couldn't see in so I guess no one would if we were silent and not going it some. I thought it was silent, but it wasn't, there were birds singing, a woodpecker was hammering away in the woods to my left. There was no breeze, the air was still, it was balmy. Then she was there, coming out of the woods by a narrow path. Been waiting long? She asked. No, not long, I said. She was dressed in a black skirt and green top. She stood there staring at the water. Had a job to get out with out too many questions, she said. Where are you going in such a hurry? Mum asked, and so on and I said, meeting Baruch and she said who? Baruch or Benedict, I said. What'd she say then? I asked. Third degree questions where and what are you doing kind of stuff. What'd you say? Yehudit sighed and sat on the grassy bank and pulled her skirt over her knees- spoilsport- I sat next to her. I said I was going with you butterfly watching, Yehudit said. Did she believe you? I doubt it. But she let me go eventually. She lay back on the grass, looking up at the blue sky. I turned and lay on my stomach studying her. So what now? I asked. Have to see, won't we. I eyed her lips. Red, pink, slightly open. She spoke. What if she comes and looks for me? The lips moved opening and closing with each word. I loved her chin, the curve of it, the redden cheeks. Why would she? I asked, lowering my eyes to her neck. I'm fourteen as are you, and I think, she thinks things about us. Such as? Her neck was creamy white, soft, kissable, but no love bites were visible, thank God. She thinks we're having ***, I think, Yehudit said. We are, I said, looking at the swell of her *******, snuggled away like small babes. But, she shouldn't know that; she ought not to even think of that, Yehudit said angrily. Did she say as such? No, but I felt  as if she thought we were or had. Yehudit looked at me. Her bright eyes searched me. So she just might come here, she said, spy on us. I laughed. It's no laughing matter, Baruch, what if she does? We're just sitting here; no harm in that, I said. Anyway, I said, did you tell her where we'd be? She nodded. I had to or she'd not let me out. She'd walk half a mile to catch you being ******? I said. Someone may have seen us last time, Yehudit said. Who and where? She closed her eyes. I wanted to kiss her *******, but they were wrapped away like gifts. Don't know, but someone my mother knows. So we just sit here until it all blows over, I said. How long? Baruch, I can't just sit by a pond all day waiting to see if my mother turns up. I kissed her neck. Soft, velvety. She opened her eyes. That doesn't help. I kissed her chin. Nor does that. I kissed her lips, she murmured then was silent. We kissed. Warm, sticky, tongues touching. She hugged me close to her; I touched her hair with my left hand and her thigh with my right going beneath her skirt. She pulled away. What if she come? What if she does? What then? I said. I'm for it, Yehudit said. We kissed again. My hand touched her *****. She giggled. Stop or she'll hear me, Yehudit said. The pond was still; ducks swam on their way. Dragonflies hovered and took off. I turned away and lay back on the grass, staring at the sky, feeling dampness on my fingers. It's too risky, she said. She may come. I watched white clouds drift by. My pecker had stirred. My heart was thumping fast. Sorry, she said, want to, but I'd not relax thinking her near listening. I closed my eyes, recalled the last time. After church, before she went home, us coming to the pond and it just happened. Us in the secluded area, the sound of the Sunday hymns going round my head, the bushes our shelter, the soft grass our green bed. Not your fault, I said, musing on the last time ******* on our soft green bed.

Sheep wool entangled
in the barbwire
on the Downs
at the top

and you and Jane
laying there
taking in the sun
and the blue of sky

and white of clouds
the soft grass
beneath you
she pointing

at birds overhead
naming them
laughing
when you got

the name wrong
her moving fingers
the hand waving there
and you talking

of the dullness
of London
by comparison
it unknown to her

the big city
the traffic
the noise
the smell

and she there
beside you
her grey skirt
tucked about her

her white blouse
open at the neck
the impression
of *******

her profile
as you turned
and gazed
the dark hair

embracing
her jaw line
the eyes gazing upward
her white socks

the old shoes
the sight of legs
from shoes
to hem of skirt

the beat of heart
your heart pumping
the sight of her
the closeness

and her voice
in the air your
hand reaching out
to touch her arm

inching outward
your fingertips
and her fingertips
feel and fold

and entangle
and release
and entangle
and she said

that cloud formation
is like an enormous god
opening arms
you looked

and frowned
and that one there
she said
is like an angel

with white wings
you gazed
at her lips moving
that one there

you said pointing
is like Santa Claus
running naked
to the beach

and she laughed
and there was the echo
of her laughter
all over the space

of Downs
her fingers
holding yours
touching

not quite Michelangelo
as art
but at least
some union

of heart
moving heart.

Here’s your fare
for the bus to school

your mother said
but some days you walked

and spent the money
on doughnuts at the bakery

on the way to school
and you felt them warm

through the white paper bag
the baker had put them in

and you ate them on the way
then licked your fingers clean

like some fingery *******
and Ed Sutcliffe met you

in the playground and said
You got sugar around your mouth

and he pointed
with his ink stained finger

and so you wiped
around your mouth

with your tongue
until all was clean

and you said
That Ok?

and he stared
at your mouth and lips

and said
Yeah that’s better

and you said
Where’s O’Brien?

He hasn’t come yet
Sutcliffe said

but Austen’s here
he drove up in his sports car

a few moments back
you sighed and looked

towards the place
where he parked his car

red and flashy
I suppose he’ll be

in his usual
bullying mood again

said Sutcliffe
holding up

the clay pots
and saying

Look at this specimen
of a ***

and hold it
up for the class to see

Don’t remind me
you said

Austen’s a fink
with a face of pits

like the surface
of the moon

and Sutcliffe laughed
and it kind of eased

his nervousness
and you saw

in his blue eyes
that sharp fear

that people have
when another dies.

At the back
of the brick bomb shelter
out of window view
on Saturday morning

before the matinée
Fay pulled up the hem
of her yellow dress
to show Baruch

the bruises
and red marks
her father had made
and all because

she didn't know
the Credo in Latin
all the way through
Baruch stared quickly

then she let down the hem
and said
don't tell no one
else I'll be for it

I won't say a word
he said
what the heck
is the Credo?

she looked at him frowning
you don't know?
no idea
he said

it's the I Believe prayer
and we Catholics
are supposed to know it
all through

but my father
wanted me to know it
all in Latin
but I couldn't get it all

and he got mad
and punished me
she said
I believe what?

he asked
I believe in God
the Father and so on
she said

I'm Jewish
Baruch said
we have our own prayers
not that I can recall

any of them
I do
she said
but Latin is hard

and the nuns say it
all the time in their prayers
and one nun hit me
with a ruler for mistakes

and said I was lazy
Baruch shrugged his shoulders
glad I aren't Catholic then
he said

now what about
the cinema matinée?
you coming?
my father said

I was to stay in
all weekend and practice
but my mother said
go and enjoy

so you are coming?
he asked
Fay nodded
yes guess I will

what about your old man?
he's away for the day
in Liverpool
and Mum said

she'd cover for me
good for her
he said
she pulled her dress tidy

and he pushed his fingers
through his dark brown hair
and they climbed over
the metal fence

surrounding the grass
and bomb shelter
and walked under
the railway bridge

and up the narrow road
behind the cinema
Baruch in his jeans
and red cowboy shirt

his silver looking
six shooter
tucked in his belt
walking beside her

looking out for bad guy
or Injuns
making sure
none scalped him or her

with their tomahawks
riding their invisible horses
across the bomb site
but none came

so he could relax
knowing she
and he
would be all right.

Miss Billings dismounted her motorbike
over by the garage wall
and in Marilyn Monroe like fashion
she walked up towards

the forecourt where you
were sweeping
between the pumps
with the big broom

Mr Fredericks had given you
a few minutes ago
to clear the last
of the snow

got you busy already kid?
she said
undoing the headscarf
and giving you the eye

yes he said to get off
the rest of the snow
she glanced around
the forecourt

well don't let me keep you kid
don't let it be said
I kept a keen man down
and she walked off

into the garage rooms
to the back office
swaying her backside
as she went

you watched
until she had disappeared
then swept more snow
from the pumps

until half hour later
(only three cars had entered
the forecourt for petrol)
you walked to the small office

at the front where the till
was kept and a small heater
was lit to keep you warm
when Miss Billings came along

and said
you want some coffee
or cocoa? or anything else
to get you warm?

coffee would be nice
you said
OK kid
she said

keep yourself warm in there
don't want you to freeze
your jewels off
and she swayed away

humming some song
as she went
you rubbed
your chilled hands

together to warm them
remembering that Christmas
when you and Judith
had walked

through the snow
carol singing
her cheeks red
with her cold

her hand touching yours
her breath exiting
her mouth
like cigarette smoke

and she pretended
she had a cigarette
between fingers
her eyes bright as stars

her hand squeezing
her fingers freezing
what you dreaming about kid?
Miss Billings said

putting a mug of coffee
by the till
O just thinking
of happy times

in my past
well hold on to it kid
she said
because it won't last

and she wiggled off
like some imitation Monroe
without the glitter or good looks
back to the back office

to play with herself
or make up the books.

Helen sat next to you
on the flat concrete roof
of the brick walled
bomb shelter

out the front
of Banks House
after school
she lifting

and lowering her legs
against the wall
her black battered shoes
making a dull thudding noise

and you sitting dead still
watching her white socks
go up and down
and she said

mum said
I couldn’t bring
Battered Betty
because she’d given her

a wash in the bath
you took in
her thick lens glasses
catching the late

afternoon sunlight
her hair in plaits
her hands placed flat
on either side of her legs

on the concrete roof
and as she spoke
about the doll
you thought about the boys

who said she smelt
of yesterday’s dinners
or called her four eyes
but they were dumbshites

you thought
they didn’t see
the beauty of her
the way her eyes sparkled

behind the lens
or how being next to her
kind of brightened up
the day

not that you’d
tell them that
but you knew it
and they didn’t

and she said
if you close your eyes
you can imagine
we are on a ship

at sea
the grass is the sea
and you said
we could be pirates

I have a sword
my old man made
from steel
and painted blue

and she looked at you
the sunlight blanking out
her eyes and her lips
still speaking

saying things
her words shaped
like diamonds
and she closed her eyes

and so did you
and she put her hand
on yours
and in the darkness

it seemed warm
and smooth
and she said softly
you can save me

from the bad pirates
the ones with eye patches
and black scarves
and scary faces

and you said
yes I could cut them
all down and not miss
and she said

yes and I could be saved
and could give you a kiss
and the ship sailed on
in the dark

behind the eyes
in a world made wonderful
where you could be
8 year old lovers

where no one betrays
and no one dies.

Fay can see Baruch
from the window
of the living room
down on the area

of grass below
he is alone
sitting on one
of the bomb shelters

left over
from the war
she peers down at him
taking in

the cowboy hat
the silver looking
6 shooter toy gun
he seems

to be cleaning
she wishes
she was there
with him

but her father
says she is to stay in
and learn about the saints
and said he will

quiz her later
when he gets home
from work
about them to see

what she has learnt
the book
is on the chair
unopened

a bookmark
of St Benedict
lies on top
her mother

is in the kitchen
preparing soup
she knows her mother
would turn a blind eye

if she wanted
to go out
but they both know
that her father

would punish her
if he caught her out
especially
with Baruch

the Jew Boy
as her father calls him
the killer of Our Lord
he often says

although Baruch
denies being involved
in any way
she hopes Baruch

will look up
at her window
and see her
he has put his gun

in the holster hanging
from the belt
of his jeans
and holds a rifle

bought for him
for his birthday
he aims at the sky
and twirls around

pretending to shoot
pigeons flying
over head
she watches him

as he aims
at the coal wharf
where the coal carts
are being loaded

with coal
from chutes above
her father doesn't like
Baruch even though

Baruch always smiles
and says shalom
to him if he passing
her father on the stairs

of the flats
Baruch says
her father is a schmuck
but she doesn't know

what that means
but if Baruch said it  
it must be a nice term
she thinks wiping away

the steamed up glass
where she has
breathed on it
she blows him a kiss

from the palm
of her thin hand
he doesn't know
but he'll get it

any how she knows
he aims at
the steam train
passing over

the bridge
by the Duke of Wellington pub
she smiles as he does
the kickback

from his rifle
the train passes
unharmed
the driver unaware

he has been fired upon
by a cowboy
from the grass
she eyes him

determinedly
wants him to look up
at her window
he lifts the rifle

to the sky again
and fires
then he pauses  
lowers his rifle

and stares at her window
she waves
he looks
she waves frantically

he looks away
she bites a lip
he stares up
at her window

and beckons her down
with a wave
of his hand
she waves

crossing her hands
as if to say
can't come
he gazes

and then waves
and blows a kiss
from his hand
upwards

then he climbs down
from the bomb shelter
and disappears
the grass is empty

he has gone
the book of saints
lies on the chair
unopened

she goes
from the window
and picks it up
and opens

and begins to read
sensing
a good portion
of her 11 year old

girl's heart
bleeds.

I knocked
on Lydia's front door
and waited
the morning sun

was coming
into the Square
Lydia's old man
opened the door

and stared at me
with bloodshot eyes
what do you want?
he said

is Lydia
coming out?
I asked
who wants to know?

I do
why?
wondered if she'd like
to see the trains

I said
why would she
want to see trains?
he said gruffly

she likes trains
I said
he looked beyond me
at the block of flats behind  

who said
she likes trains?
she did
I said

I work
with fecking trains
all day
she's never said

about trains before
he said
looking at me again
his eyes trying

to focus
we often
go see trains
I said

we went  to Waterloo
train station
the other week
he closed his eyes

rubbed
his hairy chin
and breathed out
a beery flavour

LYDIA
he bellowed suddenly
I stepped off
the front door step

and stood
gaping at him
LYDIA
he called again

he opened his eyes
and stared at me
I detected life
behind the mask

Lydia came
to the door
and peeped under
her old man's arm

this kid wants to know
if you want go see
fecking trains
he said gently

his voice silky
do you?
she nodded her head
yes

can I?
she asked
he looked at me
as if I’d just

stolen his wallet
trains?
he said
steam trains

I said
yes steam trains
she said
we like watching them

he raised his eyebrows
and looked down at her
under his arm
resting on the door jamb

ok ok
if you want go see trains
go see trains
he said

and wandered off
inside
leaving Lydia and me
looking at each other

Waterloo again?
I asked
what about Victoria station?
she said

ok sure
I replied
and she turned
around

to go get
her shoes inside.