It was the fourth day
since the break up
from school
for the summer vacation

and you were riding
with Janice
on the bus
to London Bridge

and she was wearing
the lemon coloured dress
you liked
that came to the knees

which were pressed
together
and the brown sandals
with the patterned holes

and the red beret
on her fair hair
was swaying
with the motion

of the bus
opposite you
was a man
wearing a trilby

and a moustache
who kept looking at you
with his dark eyes
his head going

from side to side
as the bus moved
and he sat next
to Janice

his hands
on his knees
and he turned
and gazed

at Janice’s knees
then up at you again
his features flushing
and then he looked away

at the passing scene
behind you
pretending
you weren’t there

then at London Bridge
he got off
and so did you
and Janice

and you waited
until he had gone
walking up
and over the bridge

and you said
he was a queer fish
who?
said Janice

that bloke
who sat next to you
why?
she asked

he kept staring at me
and ogling
at your knees
did he?

Janice said
you wait
until I tell Gran
about that

she’ll say
you watch out
for his type Janice
he’s no better

than he ought to be
you nodded
and smiled
at her imitation

of her gran
and she laughed
and you both
walked down

the steps and by
Southwark Cathedral
to the embankment
by the River Thames

and stood by the wall
looking at the passing
boats and ships and tugs
and the occasional

ducks floating  
on the brown water
and you felt Janice’s
9 year old hand

touch yours
as she pretended
(as she often did)
that you were

a married couple
out for a romantic walk
gazing
at the passing scenery

with the added
small talk.

At Waterloo Station
the steam engines
puffed powerful steam
reaching up

to the rooftop
and you stood there
hands in your pockets
your nose sniffing in

the white and grey smell
you can taste it
on your tongue
and Janice beside you

her eyes looked up
at the rooftop
as the steam
reached high

her hands clutching
the small bag
I want to be a train driver
when I’m older

you said
I want to smell
that smell
and breathe in

that steam and shovel
coal in the engine
maybe you will
Janice said

maybe you’ll be
on a train like that
big and black
and powerful

she put her hand
under your arm
and squeezed
Gran said we can be

what we want
if we want it
bad enough
Janice added

you felt her hand
under your arm
sensed her squeeze it
we went to the seaside

on a ******* train
like this last year
you said
and I put my head

out the train window
and my mum said
keep your head in
or a train

will knock it off
that’d be horrible
Janice said
she clutched

closer to you
as the steam train
puffed out more steam
and the sound was loud

and powerful
and she said
maybe
when you’re an engine driver

you can take me
to the seaside
with Gran
yes

you said
and if you come
to the engine
before you take off

I can show you
the engine
and how powerful it is
and she smiled

and put her head
on your shoulder
yes
you said softly

when I grow up
and when I am older.

Janice sat on the grass
of Banks House with me
it was Saturday afternoon
we'd been to

the morning matinee  
seen some films
and cartoons
and had ice cream

in one of those
small tubs
with a wooden spoon
that kid

actually put a knife
to your throat
last Saturday morning?
she said

yes some blonde loon
while I was going
for a ****
got me from behind

and grabbed my hair
and held the knife there
and wanted money
what did you do and say?

she asked
wide eyed
and mouth ajar
I bellowed

HELP
SOME *******'S
TRYING TO
CUT MY THROAT

she moved back
at my sudden bellowing
pigeons took flight
from nearby

some coal man
over by the coal wharf
looked over
what did he do?

she said
he pushed me
into one of the stalls
and ran off

I caught sight
of his blonde hair
and tall frame
as he went out

the door
gosh that must
have been frightening
she said  

it was
all I had
was 6d left
not worth

getting
your throat cut for
I said
would you

have given him the 6d?
I guess so
but my instinct
was to bellow

so I did
he might have stabbed you
she said
yes he may

have kissed my **** too
I didn't think
I just bellowed
did you report it?

yes
my mother
and my old man
went to the cinema with me

in the afternoon
and I gave a description
as best I could
of the kid  

I said
what happened then?
she said
don't know

my parents had a talk
with the manager
and I looked
at the small photographs

showing what was on
the following week
she looked at me deeply
but they let you go

to the cinema again
this week?
she said
of course

can't hide from life
can't let one incident
spoil fun for you
I said

she had that puzzled
look on her face
I noticed she was wearing
the lemon dress

I liked
the one with flowers
and her hair shone
in the afternoon sun

can't let
no idiot
I said
spoil your fun.

Janice folds
her new dress
quite neatly
and lays it
in the drawer
and shuts it

school next week
she tells me
nice to have
new clothes then

guess it is
I reply
got new shirts
and a pair
of trousers
my mother
got for me
from The Cut

I could hear
Janice's
grandmother
working in
the kitchen
getting us
some dinner

I like that
lemon dress
that you wear
I tell her

why that one?

the colour
lights you up

Gran told me
it's too short
to wear now
Janice says

that's a shame
I liked it

I’ve got lime
with flowers
Gran got me

she shows me
the lime dress
which she holds
against her
what you think?

it's ok

just ok?

just ok
I liked your
lemon one

it's too short
Gran told me
what is wrong
with the lime?

the flowers
too *****

too *****?
I'm a girl
*****’s good
Janice  says

she adjusts
her beret
the red one
she puts down
the lime dress
brushes it
hangs it up

I look out
the window
at a train
passing by
on the bridge

dinner time
her gran calls

the train's gone
janice takes
the beret
off her head
her blonde hair
shoulder length
her blue eyes
watery

I like lime
she tells me

we go off
eat dinner
after grace
we eating
I watching
Janice's
sallow face.

It was a Saturday morning
And you were 19

and you were racing along
Victoria Street having just left

Victoria Railway Station
on your way to Dobell’s

Jazz Record Shop
moving quickly

through the sea
of humanity

thinking of jazz
and what record

you were going to buy
at the shop that day

imaging yourself
******* through LP sleeves

taking a mental note
of which one

you might buy
a John Coltrane or Miles Davis

an Art Blakey or maybe
a Dizzy Gillespie

a jazz record being played
over the loudspeakers

in the shop
you mingling with others

in the crowded place
when this hobo stopped you

taking hold of your jacket gently
and said

have you got some small change
for a sandwich?

no
you replied

I haven’t
and rushed on

through the crowd
******* in your pocket

loose change
silvery coins

and his voice
in your head  

as you raced along
and your conscience

nagging you
maybe the voice

of the believed in Christ
so you stopped

and turned around
and made your journey back

through the people
passing by

your fingers taking hold
of the coins

the silvery loose change
and there he was

the hobo asking others
the same question

and they too went by
shaking their heads

or saying
no sorry no change

and you took his hand
and put in the loose silver

into his open palm
and said

here go buy yourself
a sandwich or whatever

and you turned
and left looking over

your shoulder
and he stood there

staring at his palm
and the coins shining

in the morning sun
and then you looked ahead

thinking of the record shop
and the LPs and the jazz music

being played
but deep down

in some other part of you
you knew you’d given

to one who maybe
was hungry

and had unconsciously
prayed.

One Sunday
in the 1950s
your old man
took you

to London’s West End
it was summer
and the evenings light
and the streets busy

and crowded
and he took you
to amusement arcades
and cafes for refreshments

and ice creams
and you saw the actress
Billie Whitelaw pass
along a street

with two guys in suits
and she gazed at you
and you knew
who she was

and she looked at you
knowing you
had recognised her
you a young kid

in short trousers
and Brylcreemed hair
and she kind of blushed
and looked away

and you followed her
as she went off
behind you
and your old man said

who was that?
you told him
and he gazed back
probably taking in

her ***
her sway
but you thought
of the Monroe lady

in the film you saw
with those lovely eyes
and red lips
and later

next day
at school
when you told Helen
who you’d seen

her eyes lit up
behind her
thick lens spectacles
and she looked

kind of jealous
of some other
female attention
you’d seen

so you said
of course I paid her
no mind I only
thought of you

wishing you
were there
with my old man
and me

licking ice creams
and boozing back
the coke or lemonade
and she smiled

and her eyes
fell on you
with her jealous demon
laid.

Jeanette sits
in the class
music's played

Beethoven
sonata
Miss Graham

the teacher
at a grand
piano

thin wire framed
spectacles
her grey hair

in a bun
aged fingers
touching keys

many kids
in the class
sit bemused

others bored
out of brains
smile or smirk

but to her
sitting there
beside blonde

Angela
is transfixed
a new world

opens up
pretty much
like that kiss

stolen quick
by that boy
Benedict

on the field
after lunch
as she sat

all alone
Angela
had gone to

the crapper
(the wrong week
to sort out)

no reasons
were given
just that kiss

on her cheek
soft and damp
then he'd gone

leaving her
as one stung
by a bee

and she watched
as he went
towards school

and she sat
between worlds
old and new

balancing
her hormones
steering clear

of all those
dangerous
hidden rocks

Jeanette moves
to music
around her

her fingers
on the desk
like keyboard

pushing thoughts
of the kiss
from her mind

closing eyes
matching up
Benedict

inwardly
with passion
like one blind.

You guessed Jeanette
liked that kind of music
viewing her from behind
(at the back of class

sitting next to Reynard)
her head would move
with the music
the Beethoven piece

had her in thrall
or so seemed
seeing her
narrow body frame

slowly move
from side to side
like some
skinny snake

(titless Reynard said
she was)
to some charmer's flute  
her head

often times
was recline
to some Chopin
Miss Graham placed

upon the record player
(how old she looked
even then)
and closed her eyes

if you saw her
undressed
Reynard said
(Jeanette

not the teacher)
be like some pencil
thin and shapeless
but there was more

to her to you
something deeper
a certain something
beyond the cloth

of cardigan and skirt
and white blouse
and ankle socks
something of soul

or maybe undefined
that aspect
hanging there
in your 14 year old mind

Reynard whispered
when's this crap
going to end
give me rock

and roll any time
but Jeanette
seemed content
to sit and listen

and move her head
and frame
or wave her thin finger
in the air

as if an invisible
orchestra was there
you viewed her
from the back of class

her dark hair
shoulder length
resting on her back
and narrow frame

the slightly pointed nose
and thin lips
when viewed from profile
when she turned

but secret
like some slow fire
a deeper passion
within you burned.

Jeanette was by
the wire fence
leaning against it
her hands

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

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

her friend Angela
the blonde girl
had gone home
for lunch

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

your cheek
was tempting me
I said
so I kissed it

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

I said
looking at her
taking in
her thin frame

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

she said
shame it might do
some good
I said

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

and snobbish
I said
she looked
at her well heeled shoes

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

it was lips
on cheek skin
I said
wet and warm

she said shyly
there you go
I said
BENNY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

her voice whining
over the table
towards her
like nuclear fallout

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

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

You and Judith
sang in the choir
at the Major’s

daughter’s wedding
and after
you walked along

to the house and gardens
where the reception
was being held

where there were marquees
for food of various kinds
and a huge beer tent

where there was champagne
and beer and wine
and soft drinks and lemonade

and she said
I will never have
a wedding like this

and she glanced around
at the marquees
and the people

in their fine clothes
and large hats
and waitresses walking

with trays of drink
maybe not
you said

taking two glasses
of champagne  
from the tray

of a passing waitress
not with the money
my dad gets

from farm work
she added
taking the glass

you offered her
and sipping
and you watched her lips

and how they worked
the crystal glass
and her fingers

holding the stem
as if it were a gold gem
worth more

than her father earned
in a lifetime
but I can always pretend

she said
and placed her arm
under yours

and walked you forward
over the grass
we can always pretend

it’s our wedding day
and these are our guests
and over the way

in the entrance
of one of the marquees
Hill stood with his

schoolgirl girlfriend Shirley
both supping the bubbly
him in his Sunday best

and she in a pink
and white dress
and her blonde hair

and stockings
and white shoes
and you said

would we invite Hill
and his girlfriend
or Tidy and his thick

caterpillar eyebrows?
she looked over at Hill
and pretty Shirley

and said
we have to be generous
when in love

and it’s our wedding day
and she lay her head
on your shoulder

and you watched
the bride and groom
over by the main marquee

kissing and embracing
and the people
around them

were cheering
and as you both
moved on

she said
where shall we go
for our honeymoon?

the south of France
you said
somewhere warm

and glancing at the sky
it carried a promise
of a coming storm.

That Sunday
after singing
in the choir
and changing
from the blue

and white gowns
and out
of the dim lit vestry
into the sunlight
at the back

of the church
Judith was standing
by a gravestone
reading the almost
indecipherable words

chiselled there
sad isn’t it
she said
that these people died
and are buried

and then the time comes
when you can’t read
who died or when?
you walked over
to where she was standing

and rubbed off
some of the green moss
with your hand
comes to us all
I guess

you said
when those whom we loved
or cared about die
and after we and those
who knew them are gone

there is no one left to care
who’s buried there
she looked at you
and you saw
her eyes water

and her lower lip tremble
you won’t forget me
will you? she asked
course not
you said

anyway
why are we getting
so **** morbid?
we’re alive
let’s live while we can

she walked away
from the gravestone
and stood looking
around the graves
behind the church

the sunlight
warming the stone
and her head
and you walked
next to her

and put your hand
on hers and said
I’ll never forget you
if you go before me
she smiled

and looked at you
I’ll always remember you
she said
other choir members
came out of the vestry door

and there was talk
and laughter
and Roger chased Shirley
along the path
and she looked back at him

giggling and making faces
and Judith said
some have no respect
for the dead
even in this

their resting place
human all too human  
you said
and kissed her
sun blessed face.

You met Judith
in the woods
at the back
of the cottage
you had the mutt with you

taking it for a walk
on the lead
in case it ran off
she was by
the small pond

in her summer dress
her hair tied back
by a dark blue ribbon
why did you bring your dog?
she asked

the parents said
she needed
to stretch her legs
you replied
looking beyond her

at the small pond
where you used to sit
trying to fish
but caught nothing
where shall we go?

she asked
let’s go sit
by the small lake
(as you called
the large pond)

and we can sit and talk
what about your dog?
oh she’ll be ok
I can tie her lead
to the nearest tree

she’ll have room
to move around
and sniff and root out
insects if she likes
you said

I bet you say that
to all the girls
Judith said
and laughed
and you smiled

and took in
her laughter
and the way
she laughed
her eyes

brightening up
her lips parting
like a breaking dawn
and taking
your spare hand

she walked you through
the woods stepping over
brambles and fallen branches
to get to the outer fence
which she climbed over

but you climbed through
and the mutt walked under
and as you walked
across the field
to the lake

she said
I hope no one saw us
the other day
when we did those things
why

what makes you think they did?
you asked
holding the mutt in check
as it tried to run off
just something

my mother said
before I came out
this morning
when I said
I was meeting you

oh
you said
was she on the war path?
no
but it was the way she said it

as if she knew something
about us or me and you
and that day
and where we were
a rook flew overhead

a black flap of wings
a loud call
shouldn’t think
so you said

watching the rook
fly off
the mutt barking
maybe
she was just trying

to dig out something
or maybe she just thinks
the worst of me
you said
maybe

Judith said
and became silent
as you both moved
towards the large pond
( the lake as you called it)

and sat down
after tying the mutt
to the nearest tree
where it sat staring
at you both

with its dark eyes
as Judith laid her head
on your shoulder
staring out
at the skin of water

on the pond
and the slight shimmer
where dragonflies
came and went
on the surface

and whispered
I love you
which vibrated
along your shoulder
and into your heart

and you couldn’t see a time
you’d not be together
or ever
this side of death
be apart.

The morning mist
that hung over

the pond (or your lake
as Judith called it)

had moved away
by the time she came

and stood next to you
wrapped up in her

Sunday best
waiting until the time

for the bus to take
you both to sing

in the church
her breath flowing out

on the air
like cigarette smoke

her eyes focused
on the skin

of the still water
I dreamt of you

last night
she said

you and I
were snuggled

together in my bed
having made love

you watched
a magpie take flight

over the water
nice

wish I could
have been there

in person
you said  

more breath
left her lips

and rose upwards
maybe next time

you can
she said

turning her head
spreading her lips

into a smile
just be my luck

your mother
will invade the dream

and catch us
you said

yes
Judith said

that would
spoil the dream

some what
there was a mist

over the pond earlier
you said

it looked beautiful
she turned

and stared
over the water

I missed that
as you missed

making love to me
in my dream

she whispered
drawing closer

her hands
taking hold

of yours
what did you

dream about?
she asked

an empty bed
and cold sheets

and a space
where you should

have been
you said

she smiled
and said

I couldn’t be
in both beds

at once could I?
once more

there was the rising
of her breath

you couldn’t tell her
you’d seen

an image
of her death.

You were lying on your back
on the grass beside Judith
three days after
the start

of the summer holidays
she was talking
about some girl
in her class at school

who wore stockings
instead of socks
and how her mother
thought that

(the wearing of stockings)
was quite too much
too grown up
and you were watching

the formation of the clouds
and how they changed shape
and colouring
becoming darker

then paler
and now and then
a bird would fly
across your vision

and you
only half listening
to her as she spoke
her words

touching your ears
her voice
like a kind of music
there lulling you

and you heard also
in the distance
the sound of a train
its puffing of steam

the sharp sound
of a horn
as it went by
the crossing

somewhere down
the track
but I wouldn’t wear stockings
Judith said

I like fresh air
getting to my legs
you have nice legs
you said

have I?
she said
yes
you said

right up to where
I can’t see no more
and she laughed
and smacked

at your arm
beside her
if my mother
could hear you

she’d not
let me near you again
a rook flew over head
its darkness in contrast

to the blue of sky
if she saw us last Sunday
she’d locked you up
you said

and Judith touched
your hand
next to hers
and held it

she mustn’t know
she whispered
course not
you said

well least not
until you’re fifty two maybe
and she laughed
and her laughter

disturbed the birds
and kind of
dissolved the cloud formation
into blueness

and you loved her
nearness
her touch
her being there

beneath clouds
and birds
and sky
and maybe always will

you thought
until the day we die.

Judith sat next to you
on the school bus
going home

holding hands
beneath her coat
on her lap

and she said
some one must have seen us
the other week

by the pond
because my dad
asked me about it

last night
and he said
not to let mum know

which I wouldn't
of course
but who saw us?

I don't know
you said
couldn't see anyone about

but who would tell my dad
about it?
did your dad say

who told him?
no he wouldn't say
she said

looking worried
have to be careful
where we go

you looked out
the window
at the passing scenes

her hand in yours
warm
her fingers next

to yours
what about meeting
in my dad's tool shed

that's quite big
and there's a couple
of old chairs in there

apart from his tools
and such
you said

I don't know
she said
what if your parents

see us?
we could go
into the house

they won't mind
me and you together
mum likes you

does she?
Judith asked
yes she says she does

you said
Judith smiled
and leaned closer to you

but didn't kiss
because of other kids
on the bus nearby

I like it near our lake
(Judith called it the lake
even though it was just

a large pond)
I like the quiet there
and the ducks

and fish just
beneath the surface
and the birds flying

overhead
she said
I like it there too

you said
us being alone together
just lying there

or sitting
looking over
the pond

the peacefulness
the aloneness
of us just being us

and you thought
of you and Judith
that last time

kissing
laying near
the pond

being there
feeling her near
smelling the perfume

she borrowed
from her mother's collection
feeling her lips

on yours
and as she looked away
out of the window

you wanted to kiss
the nape of her neck
but you didn't

you just sighed
wishing you were elsewhere
sans other kids

sans others' eyes
just you and her
and the pond or lake

feeling as if dawn
had just come
and you from some

dark sleep
and were now awake.

Judith sat on her bed
the window showed
night sky

and moon
and stars
she'd been

carol singing
with the choir
walking the route

outlined
singing at houses
to people

she and Benedict
amongst others
the parson

had the torch
others battery lamps
to read from sheets

she had walked
with Benedict
close by

near to his elbow
breathed in
his air

not cold
his hands
holding the sheet

if I lean closer
I can rub mine
against his

she did
skin on skin
she lifted her eyes

from the sheet
with words of carols
studied his face

lit up by
lamp light
hazel eyes

lips open
now closed
kiss

O if
maybe he will
if

she leaned in
he looked up
from the sheet

looked at the others
nearby rustling sheets
moving lamps

shadowed
he moved in
please kiss

she sensed him near
lips brushed
closer please

touch me
fill me
empty me

he moved in
pressed his lips
to hers

all else blanked
moon
stars

sky
others
rustling sheets

light gone
all else
but the kiss

the lips
undone
opened up

filled
she sensed
knife-like wounds

in her being
in her heart
in her ***

her heart somersaulted
her lips burned
to bright red

and branded his
more more
press

into me
seal our lips
as one

his free hand
encircled her
hers

encircled him
her bed creaked
she moved

further back
their lips
had parted

carols began
others sang
he and she

rustled sheets
lips aflame
she felt older

than her 13 years
at that moment
in time

he seemed ancient
in his 14 years aged
just love

lips
kiss
no crime.

You practiced
judo moves with Jim
on the grass
outside the farmhouse

where he lived
and his younger sister
stood on the periphery
watching the moves and falls

and she watched you
with her usual concentration
her eyes glued on you
her hands clapping

when you had Jim down
or made the right moves
and her mother
poked her head

out of the door
of the farmhouse
and said
Monica leave the boys alone

they don’t want you
pestering them
I’m just watching
Monica called back

not doing any harm
do as you’re told
her mother said firmly
and Monica slouched back

towards the farmhouse
cussing under her breath
kicking at the grass
as she went

I was only watching
she said to her mother’s
disappearing back
then she paused

and looked back
at you and said
you don’t mind do you?
no not at all

you said
but Jim said
pushing damp hair
from his sweaty face

go Monica
do as you’re told
and she smiled at you
but gave Jim

a look
in passing
of sternness
and icy cold.

What did you think
of the Chagall postcard print
I bought you?
Judy asked as you both sat

outside the Fox Inn
I pinned it on my wall
you replied
and stared at it every time

I entered the room
thinking of you
she sipped her drink
her eyes searching you

her hair tied behind
in a ponytail
so I gathered
by your letters

she said
putting her glass
on the small wooden table
I missed you

you said
I went to London
while you were away
and saw you

in every girl I saw
even at the ballet
at the opera house
she looked at her glass

I was only away for a week
she said
it seemed a year
you said

you inhaled the cigarette
you were holding
taking in her hair
and eyes and how

her lips moved
as she spoke
Florence was fantastic
she said

I picked out
that Chagall print for you
in one of the art galleries
who did you go with?

you asked
friends
she replied
male or female?

both
she said
you inhaled the cigarette again
and thought of the first time

you kissed her
how the moonlight
shone on her face
as you moved her around

you mustn’t be so jealous
she said
I have to see others
who was the guy?

Henrik
she said
you imagined her
and this Henrik

making out
in some Florence hotel
his hands touching her
I thought of you

every moment
you said
that’s sad
she said

why?
you said
because no one
should think of another

that often
she sipped her drink
and looked around
at the evening sky

how was Florence?
beautiful
she said
like you

you said
I am like Shakespeare’s’ lily
she said
as it withers

she added
I see
you said
and you studied

her hands as they lifted
the glass to her lips
the fingers
the skin

the way they held
the glass
did you read my letters
when you got home?

you asked
yes
she said
every single one

my mother said
I must have besotted
some poor soul
and you thought

of the Chagall print
and how you had sniffed it
for traces of her scent  
and remembered

your mother’s words
nothing is given forever
things in this world
are only lent.

Julie was walking
down Oxford Street
with you

one of her hands
was in yours
the other was holding

a cigarette which she put
to her lips and drew on
and exhaled the smoke

and said
pushing smoke
into the world

do you think Christ
ever came?
of course

you replied
the whole calendar
of the Western world

is spilt before and after
his coming
she inhaled deeply

and stopped to peer
in a shop window
don’t like that dress

it’s too **** middle class
too safe
you looked at the dress

in the window
at the colours and style
would your mother where it?

you asked
she’d wear it
but I wouldn’t

be seen dead in it
she said
moving you on

squeezing your hand
reminding you
of the quick *****

and *** in the small cupboard
off the ward
where she was staying

while trying to kick
the drug habit
she spread out

amongst brooms and boxes
and you there gazing at her
wondering if some domestic

would find you there
well? do you think
Christ really came?

she asked
yes
you said

he split history in two
he made people
either love him

or hate him
and want to destroy him
and what he stood for

she laughed and said
you certainly got him
under your skin

I don’t think he came at all
she said
before inhaling

her cigarette smoke
I think it was all
a big joke played out

on the Jews
to get them riled
she inhaled

her cigarette smoke
and was silent
as you walked on

down the Street  
it was no joke
being crucified

no joke hanging there
on that cross
you said

she pulled you
into a shop doorway
and kissed you

and said
oh forget about him
and his crucifixion

I’ve had enough
of the parents
ramming him

into my brain
over the years
and she kissed you again

and you looked
into her dark eyes
where you thought

many a dream comes
and drowns
and dies.

Julie sat on one
of the fountain walls
in Trafalgar Square
and lit a cigarette

she looked about her
as if she were onto
something harder
as if she had some one

looking at her
from some secret place
you gazed at her
unused to seeing her

not in her hospital
dressing gown
and slippered feet
her hair had been brushed neat

and makeup applied
and she said
I was picked up here
some months back

by some guy
who wanted ***
he thought
I was a pro

and the things
he asked for
god that was the worse
and with that

she paused
and stared at the Square
at the people
and the pigeons

and she inhaled deep
and then exhaled
blowing the smoke
out of the corner

of her mouth
like you’d seen done
in the movies
what did you say

to the guy
who picked you up
and what did he want
you to do?

she looked at you
her eyes scanning
your features
and then leaning closer

she said
I told him I wasn’t
a ***** and to go off
some place else

you watched her fingers
holding the cigarette
the way she held it
between her fingers

as if it was some
precious item she’d found
what did he want you to do?
you asked

he wanted ***
in all my orifices
she whispered
before inhaling again

the cigarette was clamped
between her lips
and she rubbed
her fingers

on her jeans
she ******* up her eyes
against the smoke
my grandfather said

if it wasn’t for ******
more women
would be *****
and attacked

you said
that guy was a creep
he smelt of strong aftershave
and body odour

she said
what a combination
you said
she stumped

the cigarette ****
onto the wall
and flicked it
across the Square

let’s go and view the art
in the Gallery behind us
she said
and you followed her

to the Portrait Gallery
her buttocks swaying
like some ship at sea
the jeans tight

and clinging
and across the Square
church bells were pulled
and were ringing.

Jupp liked
the Whitmarsh girl
or so he said
hand at the side

of his mouth
whispered
as she walked
the corridor

from Maths room
to biology class
her friend the girl
with the teeth

like a horse
(Greenfield’s cruel
Description made)
Jupp eyed her greedily

her grey skirt
swaying
as she moved
the white socks

knee high
her hair in two
ribbon tied
bunches

he looked too shy
too outclassed
to make a move
you thought

from his ****** pose
and pitted flesh
I see her in my dreams
Jupp said

she likes me then
and speaks
Miss Whitmarsh
entered

the bio class
with friend
as you and Jupp
followed close

behind
what else
in his dreams
he does you

do not know
nor care
taking seats
with him

three desks away
him ******* up
his visual love
or lust

the former
you hope
and trust  
she took out

her flowered
pencil case
and unzipped
taking pen

and pencils out
and laid
on the desk
in front  

Jupp love ******
or drunk
sat eyes stuck
tongue protruding

the bio teacher
speaking
and pointing
lecturing

on some plant
she had
her red painted nail
moving along

is this love?
Jupp asked
this pain in chest
and heart?

you wondered
spying Miss Whitmarsh
if she had clue
of her secret lovers’ pain

or if she did
whether cared
or no
her pale features

her skinny frame
her slightly
pointed nose
which part it was

he loved
her all
or part
or all

of those?
who cared
you thought
or knows.

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.

Mr Haymaker's room
was on the first floor
up on left side
where it was quiet

except for the occasional wander
by one of the old guys
on his way to the bog
Sonia lay there

on Mr Haymaker's bed
as if it were her own
her blue uniform
pulled up

her ***** hairs
blonde and cute
Benedict sat in the chair
opposite the bed

by the chest of drawers
putting on his shoes
you can't just lie there
like that

what if Mr Haymaker
comes up?
he won't
she said

he never comes up here
until bed time
he told me
he say

I don't return to my room
until bed
I like sitting
in the lounge downstairs

with the others
especially the ladies
she had a Polish accent
which made her talk

clipped and stiff
but others may come here
Benedict said
no one comes here

she said
I'm the domestic cleaner
on this wing
no one comes

he tied the left shoelace
and then sat there
gazing at her
you best get yourself dressed

he said
I am dressed
she said
well pull down

your clothes
and put your underwear
back on just in case
he said anxiously

she smiled  
in case of what?
she said
in case I tempt you again?

no in case Matron
comes up here
in one of her
on the spur

of the minute decisions
to wander around
he said
what will she say?

naughty boy and girl?
she laughed
then sat on the edge
of the single bed

and put on her underwear
and pulled down
her clothing
there

she said
is that better for you?
he nodded
and stood up

and went to the window
and looked out
the blue sky
and white clouds

seemed warming
the sun touched his face
we should have
drawn the curtains

she said  
someone might
have seen us
she said it mockingly

can't have that
can we
she added
he looked at the other

part of the building
no one can see
from over there
he said

shame
she said
it might have been
entertaining

best go
he said
they might be looking for me
to get baths done

for Mr Grigg or Mr Elcombe
he walked to the door
but she blocked his way
so suddenly you leave me

she looked into his eyes
was it not good?
yes unexpected
but good

he said
but I must go
she pushed her back
against the door

I feel used
she said in lost girl tones
her blue eyes searching him
it was risky

he said
what if we were seen?
she laughed
always worrying

what others think or say
she said
two of my uncles
and an aunt

died in Auschwitz
my parents got out
just in time
or I wouldn't be here now

and you wouldn't
have a had a good ****
she said
people's words

or what they think
is unimportant
in the long run of things
he looked at her

I must go
sorry about your uncles
and aunt
but if Matron

sees me here with you
she'll put one
and two together
and get three

she smiled
she can count well
she said
he sighed

look I must go
she kissed his cheek
ok if you must
but there is always

another day
she moved away
from the door
and he slipped out

into the corridor
she watched him go
until he was out of sight
then went back

into the room
and straightened
Mr Haymaker's bed up
and brushed off

the duvet
she looked at the ceiling
where a spider
was making a web

she'd been watching it
from the bed
while making love
it disinterested

carried on
just above her head.

She’s just a chick
Greenfield said
they don’t amount to much

as he saw you gazing
at the girl whose name
you thought was Jane

walking alone
down the school passage
in morning recess

you need to get your head
around something serious
like who’s going to win

the school football trophy
or take on Big Brophy
in the school boxing finals

but you saw her hips
move ever so slightly
and her grey school skirt

go sway like caught
by some unseen wind
and you imagined maybe

you could have walked
beside her
and taken her hand

and have said
hey Sweetie
how about a kiss?

but getting back
to reality
you knew you’d say

**** all and your tongue’d
get stuck to the roof
of your mouth

and you’d stutter
like some **** fool
hey Greenfield said

you coming
or are you going to watch
the chick’s sweet ***

going over the horizon?
and he laughed
and you both

walked on
to the woodwork room
where Chiselhead

would be waiting
and the smell
of wood and glue

and unwashed bodies
hung in the air
and you imagined

she was on her way
to the gym
for the workouts

and climbing frames
with other girls
in their gym wear

and you stuck
in the woodwork room
with glue and wood

and tools and boredom
not watching her
not being there.

You entered the single
factory door
into a noisy
and busy shop floor

with a guy called Brian
who was older than you
and had a worn
and worried expression

a foreman came
and asked Brian to go with him
and set him to some job
over the way

then he came to you
and said
what’s your name?
Collins

you said
right Colin
he said
follow me

and you were puzzled
why he had called you Colin
as you followed him
down the aisle

between machines
and people
he introduced you
to a middle aged dame

with glasses
who was short
and dumpy
there was another dame there

who was thinner
and a bit younger
who smiled
the plump dame

showed you around
her department
and set you to work
on a drilling machine

where you worked
most of the morning
then you had to go
to the work office

where a dame sat
you gave her the job sheet
how long were you
on the job?

she asked
about 6 inches
you said
she looked at you

a hint of a smile
on her lips
how long?
she repeated

how long what?
you asked
how long in time
were you on the job?

she said slowly
you said
3 hours it says here
mmmm

she said
you’re new aren’t you?
no
you replied

I’ve been around
for 21 years or so
she gazed at you
with her dark eyes

her lips were about to speak
but she nodded
then shut
the slide window

leaving you staring
at the window glass
you walked back
through the aisle

towards the plump dame
and her department
ready for the next job
before lunch

hoping it wasn’t
another drilling operation
but assembly
or cranking

or any other job
than drilling
thinking of the dame
in the office

and something
more thrilling.

Just because Mother told
Father he looked like some
New York tourist, with his

Loud shirt and hanging camera,
He hit her once or twice, you
Couldn’t tell, just remember

The yell, the cry and flurry of
Fists. Mother looked a wreck
After that, her eyes gazed out

On a different world like some
Columbus on dangerous seas.
You **** with me woman,

You’re going to regret it,
Father said, his bass voice
Flowing around the room like

A large bell, his knuckles
Speckled in bright blood.
Mother’s spirit was black

And blue, but he never once
Touched you, not even a raised
Hand; just his words and stare

Kept you out of there. You can
See her now, cowering when he
Came in, standing stooped over

The sink and saying softly, Mary
Lou, don’t say nothing when
Your daddy comes in just let him

Settle in to his chair just let him
Be calm and unwind, don’t bring
Him troubles or worries, just let

Him be there. You watched as she
Shook when his key hit the lock,
The young woman she’d been aged

With each hard look and knock.
You sit now and see her in the
Crazy house, wandering the ward,

Gibbering to the walls. You can
Still recall your father sitting in
His chair, his eyes in some lifeless

Stare, with the carving knife Mother
Had ****** into him, well rooted
There and in the background on

The radio some Country and Western
Singer was singing deep and slow.

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.

You often wonder
Where it all went wrong
And why the expanse

Of sky darkened with
The coming of the
Words: no longer love

You, in fact, never
Did, just needed to
Have you about me

To keep company
When no one else would
Do, now they've gone, found

Someone else to hurt
And spoil and bring their
Heart to heat and boil

Then leave to cool like
They left you, just you
Now and the dog all

Alone and Buddy
Holly singing on
The old gramophone.

That's it now
the whole show

of his love
all spent out

those bruises
like medals

after war
remind you

he's been there
his call card

the bruising
of both eyes

the split lip
his bouquet

of flowers
red and blue


wrapped in fists
just for you.

I'd taken Ingrid
to see a film
about Daniel Boone
in some flea pit cinema
in Camberwell Green

and we stood outside
and waited
for a bus home
and it started
to spit with rain

she looked cold

should have brought
your raincoat
I said

it's torn at the arm
and Mum hasn't
mended it yet
she said

about time
she did then
what's she waiting for
summer?

Dad told her
to make me wait
for being naughty

I looked at her
standing there shivering
her brown hair
getting damp
and looking bedraggled
her grey dress
beginning
to cling to her

here have my jacket
I said

but then you'll
get wet

so what
I'm a boy
I'm like Daniel Boone
I can take stuff
what's rain?
just water
coming down vertically

so I took off my coat
and put it
around her
and she held it
tight around her

that better?

yes warmer
she said  

I stood there
getting wet
my sleeveless jumper
and shirt dampening

now I feel guilty
you getting wet
she said

I like getting wet
reminds me
of the soldiers
in WW1
in the trenches
getting wet
standing in mud
and some one
firing at them
this is a piece
of cake compared

my uncle said
he'd get me
a new coat
she said
but Dad
won't let him

is that the uncle
who gives you money
for doing things?

she nodded

just as well
you don't get
the coat
or God knows
what you'd have
to do for that
I said

she looked away
going a tomato red.

**** Morecraft said
about joining the Scouts
who used
the church hall

good venture
he said
we do things
tie knots

and learn
about nature  
how to start a fire
with two bits of wood

and sing songs
around campfires
and so on he went
walking home from school

you wanting to join the scouts
like you wanted diarrhoea
listening half heartedly
thinking of what

was for tea
or what to do
after school
and where to go

and we learn how
to put up tents
**** added
the last straw

ok
you said
I’ll think about it
see you around

and so off he went
along Newington Butts  
and you went down
the subway and along

whistling
hands in pockets
when you saw Ingrid
up ahead with bent shoulders

and lowered head
what’s up? you said
and she showed you
a tear

in her school dress
a rip in the side
showing
her white vest

my dad’ll **** me
(not quite you knew
but he’d beat her
black and blue)

what do I do?
she said crying
wiping her eyes
don’t go home

just yet
you said
my mum’ll sew it up
like new

we’ll go to
my place first
that’s what we’ll do
so you walked

up and out the subway
and across the bomb site
and up Meadow Row
(her mother or father

needn’t know)
and up the concrete stairs
to your flat and in
and you explained

to your mother
what was wrong
and she said she’d fix it
with needle and thread

and so Ingrid
took off the dress  
and gave it
to your mother to sew

and sat there
in the sitting room
in her vest and underwear
fiddling with her fingers

looking around
the room shyly
arms and legs
carrying badges

of black and blue
go get Ingrid
a glass of Tizer
and biscuit

your mother said
and don’t gawk so
and so you went
to the kitchen

and poured
a glass of Tizer
and got a biscuit
from a tin

and took them in
Ingrid wide eyed said
thank you
and took the biscuit

and glass
and nibbled
and sipped
and you told her

about the scouts
and what
Morecraft said
about tents

and tying knots
and lighting fires
with sticks
and such

(not caring much)
and all the time
eyeing the bruises
and welts on legs

and arms
and your mother said
don’t stare so
at Ingrid in her

white( near grey)vest
and underwear
so you changed
the subject

to the cinema
about some cowboy film
where the good guy
twirls his gun

and goes pop pop pop
you said
and gets the baddies
dead

just like that
and how after
the boring bit
where he kisses a girl

he twirls
his gun again
(you need
to practice that)

and she listened
as she sipped her drink
and nibbled the biscuit
sitting there

with her badges
of blue and black
in her underwear
and a red line

across
her skinny back.

He knew that if he had
just the one drink
that he’d be back
on the wagon again

back to the shut up room
and dead head
and stinking bed
and the woman off again

and the door slamming
and her voice echoing
up the from the hall
as her footsteps faded

come on
the guys said
just the one shot
but no he had to stay strong

keep the ***** away
from hand and lips
and hey Joey come on
just a drink with me huh?

one lousy drink with a pal
whose lady’s left him
for some other guy
no

he said
I can’t have one drink
I don’t do one drinks
I got to stay strong

got to look at the big picture
so his friend said
shrew you Joey
I’ll find others

who’ll drink with me
and off he went
and Joey sipped his lemonade
and looked at the bottles

behind the bar
looking back him
saying silently
ha ha ha.

Isolde stands at the window
of her old room. Her mother
and sister sit around the small

white table, talking to Tristana.
Cobwebs hang from the metal
curtain rail, a dead spider hangs

like a dead parachutist, a dried
up fly on the white painted
windowsill. The first few days

out of the asylum seem odd,
seem to unbalance her. Tristana
seems engaging well with her

icy mother, her sister looks on
anxiously. My room, she had
told Tristana. My bed, she had

added pointing to the bed
pushed against a wall. In the
asylum, some weeks back,

she and Tristana had ******.
The fat nurse had caught them
and reported. There had been

giggles and guffaws in the staff
room afterwards. Now she and
Tristana were free, government

clearout, new policy, economical
necessities. She stares at her
mother’s head move from side

to side, her jaw opening and
closing like the shark she was.
Just a quick visitation, she said.

Her mother’s eyes and mouth
opened with shock when they
turned up. Not staying, she had

informed. Visiting the once, she
had said. Her mother seemed
relieved, her sister white as a

sheet, nodded her head like
some cheap doll. The room
was cold, colder than before.

She’d been taken from here
those years back, screaming,
held between men in white,

out into the cold night. Be gone
soon, she mutters, rubbing a
finger down the pane of glass,

making a rude noise, all heads
turn toward her room from
the garden below. Goodbye
old room, time for us to go.

Just us,
those last moments,
(not that we
expected them to be).

Those final words,
mundane,
with Ok
and See you
tomorrow then
or some such like.

Then the departure;
no last embrace,
no hint of final going
into the far off sunset.

Just us, my son,
those last words.

I cannot recall
your first words spoken
nor now your last
with any precision.

Your death was not
my idea or decision,
nor yours to decide
or to know it seems.

Surreal maybe
as in half sleeps
or waking dreams.

I talk to you still
even though you've gone
to other realms
beyond my sense so far.

Sometimes I sense you
passing out of my eye's
corner view
like some shooting
(did I see that?)
star.

Kafka speaks to me
last time it was Bukowski
drinking all my *****.

Kennedy’s dead, Warne said.
Cole couldn’t comprehend.
The President? Jack you mean?

Things seemed simple then.
Now he knew the dark truth
Of how things fell into place.

Warne had lied about the facts,
Distorted matters; brought in
The Oswald myth and kept it

Going. Cole sips his *****
Looks across the city, wonders
How it will all pan out in the

End, whether truth will out.
The girl enters the room and
Sits beside him; half dressed

In simple reds, some foreign
Chick he'd picked up some weeks
Back, feeling lonely. She kisses

His cheek; simple thing kissing.
Something not there though;
Something missing. Kennedy’s

Dead, Warne had said. Cole
Remembers seeing that other
Photograph of Jack’s head part

Blown away. He sips his drink,
Feels the girl’s lips, wet and
Warm, remembers, forgets,

The Oswald myth, the lone
Shooter, blood on Jackie’s
Coat. The girl licks his ear,

Snakelike, worming the wet
Pointed end, another orifice
To explore. Jack’s gone; head

Blown apart; Warne passed
Away some years back, ******
Up heart. Cole sighs, the girl

Moves away, the ear wet with
Spittle; nothing matters now,
He muses darkly, or very little.

Kenton comes to tea.
Dunne serves at table.
Kenton knew Hazel

even as a child.
Her late father’s friend
watches Dunne pour tea

into his teacup.
Your dear father’s death
was quite sudden he says.

We were in Paris
touring when news came
Hazel says softly.  

Who was the other?
Kenton asks Hazel.
Dunne here my maid came.

Oh I see he says
gazing at Dunne’s thighs
hidden behind cloth.

He was a good man
Kenton says firmly
I’ve known him for years.

Dunne wants to refute
but remains silent.
Her master’s abuse

of her sexually
remains in her mind.
Hazel looks at Dunne

she knows the secrets
knew her father’s deeds.
Kenton rattles on.

Hazel remembers
her months in Paris
with Dunne at her side.

Art and galleries.
Cafes on corners
smoking and drinking.

Talking and laughing.
Both of them bathing
always together

touching and feeling
kissing and holding
in one bed at night.

Dunne slices the cake
pours Hazel’s black tea
her blue eyes searching.

Kenton eats his cake
talks between mouthfuls
spluttering small crumbs.

Dunne studies Hazel
her eyes *******
her tongue like a snail

moves slowly between
her mistress’s thighs
her hands embracing

the smooth naked skin
in her memory.
Hazel looks away

the room is so warm.
She knows that soft stare
****** and hot

and she whispering
more of that don’t stop
scratching through the air.

Dunne hears her and smiles
pours Kenton more tea.
He is unaware there’s love in the air.

Yehudit sat with her chin
on her knees and her hands
wrapped about her bare legs,
staring at the water of the pond.

Flies hovered over the water's
skin, ducks swam, birds flew
or sang. Baruch sat beside her,
hands on the grass either side
of him, watching the scene,
smelling her scent, liberated
(Yehudit claimed from her
mother's room), dabbed on
liberally. Marilyn Monroe's
dead, he said. Suicide I heard,
she replied. Or other, he said,
someone wanted her dead.

Papers say suicide, she said,
least ways she out of it. I liked
her, he said, many a guy dreams
of her I suppose. Are you one
of those? she asked. Is a guy
responsible for his dreams? he
said, turning his head, taking
in her profile, goddess like, he
thought, nose, chin, lips and all.

Who would you like to wake up
to me or Monroe? she asked,
giving him the steady stare.

You now, of course, he replied,
now she's died. Yehudit slapped
his arm, seriously even if she
hadn't popped her clogs? He
saw a rook fly across the pond,
noise attending, flap of wings.

You of course, he said, even if
she lived; you'd be my first choice,
he added in whispered voice.

She closed her, leaned her damp
forehead on her knees, hands
holding her legs tight. There
was no wind, just afternoon
warm sunlight. I dream of you
often, she said, here by the
pond, in the classroom, in my
single bed. He smiled at this,
wanting to give her lips a kiss.

He viewed her thigh out of the
corner of his eye. Her green
skirt had lowered down, thus
revealing such. He loved the
way she was: her hair, her eyes
open or closed, her lips in motion
or still, her hands at rest or play.

They'd not made it to her bedroom,
her mother was always around,
upstairs or down; they'd not made
his bedroom either (he shared with
his brother) and of course, he didn't
want to shock his mother. In dear
Yehudit's dreams of him they'd made
it it seemed, although he didn't share
because he wasn't there, which he
thought unfair. On the sports field
at school, I heard, you see another,
she said, her voice hesitant, her
words hanging in the air. Oh that's
nothing, he said, just a girl with
a crush, no big deal. So Yehudit
looked away. Sunlight danced on
the water's skin, warming flies
and ducks and fish beneath within.

He wondered how he lied. Words
came out of their own accord.
That other on the sports field,
who'd wormed into his mind
and heart, filled his night and
dreams (more than Monroe had
or did), but because he didn't
want to injure dear Yehudit's
mind or heart, he kept it hid.

You have his letters still,
you have tied the bundles
with string not ribbons as

he supposed. You have
read them many times,
sometimes in order of

composition, sometimes
in order of picking from
the bundle, randomly,

taking carefully from its
envelope and opening up
to scan the page or pages.

You keep his letters at the
back of your underwear
draw, kept in neat bundles,

hidden from view. His script
is small, neatly drawn across
the page, his words slant to

the left, as if they are tired
words unable to stand upright
as most words can or do.

Sometimes you read them
by your bedside lamp, your
eyes feasting themselves like

greedy children over candy.
Now and then you stop at a
word or phrase and drink it in

and swirl it around your mind
like an intoxicating mixture to
make drunk your thoughts.

He writes no more, his letters
are all that you have of him, the
ink fading with the age and time.

Since the last letter you write
others from him in your head,
ones he never sent, never wrote.
His hand is silent now, no more is said.

It was off Harper Road
on some bombsite
houses half standing
half rubble
you and Jim
and some other kids
were climbing
amongst the ruin

the holidays just begun
the sun shining
on your heads

Coppers!
one kid shouted
and you all began
to climb out
of the ruined house
and onto the rubble

a police car had parked
on the edge
of the road
and two policemen got out

what you lot doing in there?
one of the coppers said
come on line up
the other said

so you all lined up
against the wall
surrounding the bombsite

what were you doing in there?
the copper asked

playing
Jim said
having fun
another kid said

don’t you know it’s illegal
to play
on theses condemned houses?
he said

didn’t know
a fat kid said
at the end

the copper
walked along the line
studying each boy in turn
asking each one
their name and address

you listened
sweating
your nerves on edge
your ears pricked
the answers the boys gave
were lies you knew
because Jim had said
Barny Broadbridge
and his address
was not were he lived

you
the copper said
what’s you name?

your mind went a blank
don’t know
you said

the copper smacked you
around the face
your name kid what is it?

your cheek stung
tears welled in your eyes
Brian Tolling
you muttered
saying whatever came
into your head

where do you live?
you made up a number
to a block of flats nearby

the other kids glared
at the coppers
as they walked
along the line

you saw a watery blur
of colours

right get off home
and if we see you
on here again
we’ll come and see your parents
get it?
he closed
his black note book
and they climbed back
in the car and drove off

up you copper
the fat kid said
lifting a finger
to the far away car

you all right?
Jim asked

you rubbed your cheek
blinked tears
out of your eyes
he came in to focus
yes
you said
didn’t hurt
frigging flatfoot

the other kids laughed
and the fat kid
patted your back
see you around
they said

and you and Jim
walked down
Rockingham Street
the sun peering over
the flats where
you did not live

back to Jim’s place
to look at his knives
and get on
with your schoolboy lives.

Love the trains
Lydia said
love the smell

me too
I said

we'd gone
to King’s Cross station
and were sitting
watching people
come out of the trains
and getting on

wonder where
they're all going?
she asked

some place nice
I said

but where?

Edinburgh
or York
or Newcastle

how do you know?
she asked

it's written
on the board
back there
I said

she gazed
as passengers passed
us by

a porter went by
pushing a trolley

a man in a bowler
stared at us
as he went by
his nose in the air

my dad works here
sometimes
Lydia said
mostly he's at Waterloo

I looked at her
she was very thin
her lank brown hair
touched the collar
of her off white blouse

she sat there
moving her thin legs
back and forward

I bet that steam train
gets hot by the time
it gets to Edinburgh
I said

bet it does
she said

a steam train made
a loud hissing noise

wish we could go
to Edinburgh
she said
bet it's good there

one day we might
I said
go see the places there

stay in a hotel
she said
have a nice room

wonder if they
have haggis everyday?
I said
and porridge

yuk don't like them
she said
I’d like Cornflakes
or Puffed Wheat

a few people ran
for the train
and then it was all
still as the guard
raised his green flag

and the train began
to hiss and puff
and steam came out
of the train
as it began
to pull away

Lydia waved at it
as it pulled away

and I sniffed
in the steam
and smell
of the train

goodbye people
she said
enjoy Scotland

we stood there
on the platform
watching the train
go off
steam bellowing out
and then it was gone

and we stood there
kind of empty
as if part of us
had gone away

we'll go to Scotland
one day
I said holding
her thin hand
but not today.

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

Lydia
pale and thin
lanky hair

lightish brown
walks with me
to see hot

steam engines
at Kings Cross
train station

her old man
grudgingly
said she could

go with me
we get on
a bus there

sitting on
a side seat
some big guy

stares at us
his deep eyes
drinks us in

then gawks at
Lydia
she blushes

looks away
I give him
my John Wayne

cowboy stare
he looks back
then away

we get off
at our stop
at Kings Cross

smell of steam
sound of trains
huff and puff

and people
rushing by
on to trains

off of trains
we both sit
on a seat

watching this
unfolding
train drama

with porters
with trolleys
and luggage

and parcels
passengers
going by

rich and poor
Lydia
beside me

wanting this
as I do
the grey smoke

rising high
to the roof
turning blue.

Yehudit didn't
tell her mother
about the kiss.

She'd not understand;
she'd moan some  
about Yehudit being
just fourteen
and who  
kissed you
and whom
did you kiss?
kind of questions.

Best nothing said.

She entered home
after the Christmas
carols singing trip
and said yes,
it went well,
and we raised money
for the church and poor.

Her mother gazed
and said getting late best
be off to bed with you.

So she did.

Good night all, call.

Climbed the stairs to bed.

Humming a carol
or so,
treading the stairs,
but Benedict and the kiss
stuck inside her head.

Naaman met Amana
as she was on her way
to the shop for her mother.

He was counting out change
in the palm of his hand.

The morning sun
was coming over
the fishmonger shop,
the sky was grey blue.

She spoke
of her parents rowing,
how she never slept
until late,
a series of slaps,
then silence,
she said.

Naaman put the change
in the pocket
of his school trousers;
he saw how tired she looked,
even though her fair hair
was well brushed,
there was a haunted
look about her.

He knew of rows,
slammed doors
at night,
weeping into
the small hours
from his mother’s room.  

Amana showed him
the list of shopping
she had to get.

He showed her his.
Doughnuts are warm
from the shop,
we can share one,
he said.

Won’t your mother mind?
she asked.
You can only eat them
once she’ll say,
Naaman replied.

They walked to the shop
across Rockingham Street
and entered in.

The smell of warm bread
and rolls and coffee
being made.

He stood behind her
as she showed
the woman her list.

Amana had on
her school uniform,
the dress well pressed;
the white socks contrasted
with the well blacked shoes.
Her hands were at her sides.
Thumbs down,
soldier like.

He had held that hand
home from school once,
warm, tingling
with the pulse of her.

That time on the bombsite,
collecting chickweed
for the caged bird
his mother kept,
she had kissed
his cheek.
Never washed for a week
(least not that part).

He could smell
the freshness of soap
about her
as he neared to her.

The woman handed
the shopping over
the counter
and Amana paid in coins
which the woman counted.

Naaman handed
the woman his own list.
Rattled the coins
in his pocket.  

Amana waited;
the bag by her feet.
She spoke
of the Annunciation
being taught at school,
the Visitation of an angel.

All beyond Naaman’s grasp
at that time.
He knew of catapults
and swords ,
of old battles in fields,
and the Wild West
where he rode
his imaginary horse.  

He wanted to kiss
her cheek as she
had kissed his.
Shyness prevented.

She spoke
of the ****** birth
the nun’s spoke of,
the wise men coming
from afar
following a star.

Naaman liked the stars,
the brightness of them,
the faraway wonder
in a dark sky.

After he had received
his shopping and paid
they walked back out
into the street
and crossed to the *****
that led to the Square.

Then beneath
the morning sun,
bag in hand,
she leaned close,
pressed her lips
to his cheek
and kissed him there.

It was she, Buruch
remembered, it was

Shlomit, who during
a nature study class


at school, had raised
a hand to be excused

to go to the loo (other
kids would have said

the lavatory or toilet
depending on their

breeding or class),
but the teacher, Miss

Ashdown, said, no
you should have gone

before. A few minutes
later, Buruch recalled,

she peed on her chair
and floor and a boy

nearby the scene said,
Shlomit's **** herself

Miss. There was a sea
of sounds around and

the teacher frowned
and with beady stare

told her to get out of
there, and told another

girl to go with her to
the nurse to wash and

change (nothing worse)
and sobbing left the room.

Yes, it had been she,
Buruch remembered,

and she hadn't returned
anymore that afternoon.

Gone home, he now
suspected, in borrowed

underwear, her others
washed through by nurse

who said, that will have
to do; and home to her

parents, mother's chide
and father's hand or belt

(who firmly with either dealt).
But to day, after lunch

in the upstairs hall, he'd
gone with her to Bedlam

Park, and showed her
his killer brown conker

on threaded string, a
three penny piece his

grandfather gave, and
she showed him the new

handkerchief her mother
bought her, flowered

with red border. And
she'd kissed him shyly

on the cheek and he
smiled and looked to

the ground, hoping none
of the boys were around.

Yes, it had been Shlomit
who had wet herself

and chair and floor and
been sent away, but she

was dry now and had
kissed his cheek today.

Anne rubs
her leg stump
to ease pain

Skinny Kid
watches her
sitting there

in the black
old wheelchair
can I help?

he asks her
kneeling down
best not Kid

if the nuns
are watching
they'll be here

like black bats
at dusk time
Anne says

the Kid stares
as she rubs
the leg stump

still painful?
he asks her
yes it is

she replies
kiss it Kid
kiss the stump

he studies
the fleshy
stump of leg

will it help?
sure it will
she suggests

looking up
at the home
where the nuns

nursing nuns
are at work
other kids

play about
swings and slide
coast is clear

kiss it now
she whispers
he puckers

his small lips
and kisses
the leg stump

Anne laughs
get off Kid
you're tickling

making me
**** myself
he removes

his small lips
from her stump
well done Kid

that's better
the pain's gone
looking up

she sees there
across grass
rushing close

a young nun.

Kissing
just

that small area
of your naked

shoulder,
my lips

just touching,
brushing,

your skin warm,
smooth,

my moustache
tickling

you to laughter,
settled you

to ease
for *** after.

How's your Mother?

Why do you asked?

Just wondered,
I say,
standing by Yiska  
by a school fence.

Usual moods;
moans at me;
always about my room
or the length
of my dress or skirt.

I thought she was ok
when I saw her last.

You've only met her once
on one of her rare
good days.

Sunlight brightens
Yiska's face;
her eyes reflect
two small suns
and me amongst them.

And your father?
How's he?

Why the interest
in my parents?
I'm the one
you should be
talking of,
Yiska says.

Where shall we kiss?

On the lips.

But where about
in space?

She smiles.

Behind the maths block?
Quiet there.

I look along the fence
to the blocks behind;
the window glass
reflecting the sun
and other aspects
of the school behind.

There's not much time.

Then here, then.

She looks at me;
her eyes drink me in.

I look about us;
kids in the playground,
out on the field,
passing by behind us.

She leans in;
her small breast
pressing against
my chest.

We kiss,
then move apart,
lips at rest.