The Catholic priest came
and gave last rites;
you were comatosed,
though I expect you heard;
they say one does,
even then, shalom, amen.

We held your hands
most of that last day,
one of us staying,
whilst the other
(went for drink or such)
went silently away,
but too long or much.

Puffed up hand and arm,
your eyes closed;
tubes and wires
coming out
here and there;
all those machines
keeping you alive,
pumping away,
softly noisy.

We never gave up
you'd survive,
watched and held
and talked until
the last eased out breath.

A lonely place,
some say, is death.

We were there,
breaking up
at your departure;
didn't want you to go;
but you fought until end,
stoic, silent, Seneca like,
our son, and these hearts,
which no time
or words or prayers
or creed( at this time)
can mend.

On the way home
from senior school
you met Fay
on the corner

of the New Kent Road
and Meadow Row
she was dressed
in her school uniform

with a satchel
over her shoulder
a hand griping
the leather strap

her fair hair
neat and tidy
hard day at school?
you asked

as usual
she said
the nuns strict
and the lessons

mind stunning
and you?
a good dose
of brain washing

and the usual
morons teaching
you replied
pushing fingers

through your hair
taking in
her lovely eyes
the shyness

the way she stood
her small hand
gripping the strap
sed libera nos a malo

she said
what the heck
does that mean?
you asked

it’s from the Lord’s Prayer
Fay said softly
it means
but deliver us from evil

my daddy says it
often to me
you nodded
my old man wouldn’t know

what the heck
it would mean
if it bit his backside
you said

Fay laughed shyly
you liked it
when she laughed
like she did

it was like a small prayer
whispered
by a bright eyed angel
she looked back

at the passing traffic
the noise
the fumes
my daddy says

it’s a daily battle
against evil
he says one must
drive out evil

and the evil one
by punishment
she said
looking back at you

there’s plenty
of punishment
at my school
you said

not sure if it’s evil
being driven out
or the breaking of school rules
you said

do you want
to come to my place
for tea?
you asked

best not
she said
Daddy’s home early today
and he likes me

home on time
ok
you said
and you both

turned down Meadow Row
she touched
your hand
and you held hers gently

as if it were
a fragile *** made
from bone china
smooth yet warm

her fingers curled
around your hand
skin on skin
beautiful

with no touch
of sin.

During boring
school lessons
he looks across
at Yehudit at her desk

takes in her brown hair
shoulder length
her profile
the eyes

nose
and how she sits
her large bust
her pen in hand

writing
and the teacher writing
on the board
boring stuff

time wasting scribbling
he watches her
her head bent
intent on the work

and thinks
of that time
by the pond
in the wood

he lying there
on the grass
sun above his head
and she came

and sat beside him
her peasant simplicity
overwhelming him
her show of leg

as she moved closer
her eyes large
and fire filled
and he told her

about the large butterfly
he'd seen in the woods
red and black
and white tips

and as he spoke
she touched his thigh
moved her hand along it
her fingers doing

that walking thing
on the jeans
and he proceeded
with the butterfly talk

as her fingers
walked deeper
and pressed and pressured
and he said

OK so the butterfly
isn't the most
intense subject
but hey

what are you doing
with the walking?
raising an interest
she said

and he said
two can play
at that game
and touched her leg

the soft flesh
moving his hand
just beneath
her skirt

warm and silky
and now once
you've written
that down

the teacher says
dragging Baruch
from his day dream
of memories

I'll talk about
the exports and imports
of the nation
and so he goes on

but Baruch
is only half listening
he studies Yehudit's hands
how they join together

as if in prayer
elbows on the desk
her chin resting
on the finger tips

and how her knees touch
issuing from the skirt
beneath the desk
and that time

he kissed her
under the full moon
and he howled afterwards
like some hound

and she laughed
and it echoed
around trees
and they kissed again

dismissing
the November rain.

At school
Moorcraft said
about joining
the boy scouts with him

(the only scouts
you were interested in
were those who rode
ahead of the cavalry

in western films
and who got themselves
scalped by Injuns)
but he went on

about how they taught you
to tie knots
and light fires
with two sticks

of wood
and how to sing songs
around a camp fire
and be a good kid

and do Bob a Job
for old ladies
and he went on about it
quite a bit

and so you said
ok pick me up later
and so after teatime
of bread and jam

and a mug of tea
and biscuit
you went with Moorcraft
to the church hall

where the scouts met
and this tall scouts master
in short trousers
and hairy legs

and glasses
took you off
to join the rest
and introduced you both

and some kid
showed you how
to tie these knots
and climb ropes

and how to set up
a tent and make camp
and so on
until some kid

pushed you off
the ropes
and you pushed him back
and he punched you

on the shoulder
and you hit him
on the jaw
and then you were both

on the floor
and the good kids
were saying oh and gosh
and crowding round

until the scout master came
and asked what
was going on
and that good scouts

didn’t fight
and threw you out
of the hall
leaving Moorcraft behind

tying knots
and climbing ropes
but you didn’t  
give a fig at all

and Moorcraft still in there
not knowing why
and you walked home alone
under an evening sky.

The Irish monk
reads from a life
of a saint-

refectory lunch-

his eyes walk
the page-

silence as he reads
from others-

eating as a work
of art.

I look at the monks
around me-

one with a patch
over one eye
like a pirate-

and a memory
of her licking
my ear
and whispering words.

The French peasant monk
brings water
for the flowers
in the church
and he labours
as a whole millennium
of peasant monks
have done –

he being solitary
but not the only one.

Miss Wren
was there again.
He watched her
from his table

sipping the cappuccino,
she window shopping,
her head slightly bent,
shoulders stooping,

wearing that nice
two piece again
with umbrella
in case of rain.

He studied her
as an artist,
took in the way
she stood,

shape of frame,
size of *****,
hips, way the legs
moved in gentle steps.

He sipped some more,
watched as she brushed
fingers through her hair,
stood upright,

hands to her back,
aching or no
he didn't know.
He wondered what thoughts

raced through her head,
what items in store
her eyes took hold,
what clothing would

she wish to wear,
he sipped slowly,
sitting there.
Now she moved on,

another window
took her sight,
she stopped and stared.
Hands in pockets,

legs together,
knees touching,
her mind elsewhere,
buying mentally,

wearing the dress
she'd seen,
doing an inner twirl.
He imagined her,

in all her beauty,
lying on his bed,
hands behind her head,
her ******* without bra,

her figure at an angle,
waiting for she knows
not what or whom,
who dreams of her,

who takes her
in his nightly sleep,
and puts away
the images

with the ones
he's had before,
sipped his cappuccino,
elbows on the table.

Miss Wren had gone,
he knew not where,
just the vacant space
where she had been,
hollow and bare.

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.

The sun's out
and we sit
on some stones

or old bricks
left standing
from bombed out

old houses
on bomb sites
on the right

going up
Meadow Row
I'm sitting

sharpening
my penknife
on a stone

Ingrid sits
watching me
or passed me

at coal men
loading trucks
with black sacks

with black coal
I spit phlegm
on the stone

and sharpen
the knife blade
my uncle

shows me things
Ingrid says
things he's made

out of wood
are they good?
I think so

and he said
he'll show me
to make things

at his place
I put down
the blunt stone

and fold up
the sharp knife
and will you?

I ask her
gazing at
her pale face

with slightly
protruding teeth
I don't know

she replies
this uncle
is he that

one you said
that does things
secret things?

she looks off
looks past me
at bombed out

house ruins
and blushes
nods her head

don't go there
not alone
I tell her

mustn't tell
she whispers
I won't go

on my own
I promise
she tells me

we get up
and walk off
the bomb site

off to get
2 lollies
at Baldy's

grocer's shop
and maybe
4 Blackjacks

sticky sweets
1 farthing
for each one

hot sunshine
bright blue sky
big hot sun.

I knocked the black
door knocker
on Janice's nan's door
and her nan answered

and said
o hello Benedict
Janice can't come out
she let the canary out

and we had
a hell of  a job
getting it back
in the cage again

so I'm keeping her in
I was going
to tan her backside
but I thought

keeping her in
was more
of a punishment
on a day like this

o right
I said
looking at Nan's eyes
and her greying hair

and unsmiling face
but you can come in
and see her
for a few minutes

shame that you
have to be
without her though
so she walked

back up the passage
and into the sitting room
where Janice
was sitting on a settee

looking disgruntled
it's Benedict
come to see you
he is only staying

for a few minutes
so don't think
you can go out
because you can't

Janice nodded
and looked tearful
and her nan walked off
into the kitchen

I didn't mean
to let the bird out
I just opened
the cage door

to get it to stand
on my finger
but it flew out
and it to ages

to catch it again
and Nan was so angry
that she was
on the border

of giving a smacking
but then she thought
keeping me in
was more

of a punishment
so here I am
on a lovely warm day
sorry about that

I said
where are you going?
she asked
I was going to Jail Park

on the swings and slide
I said  
I see
she said

looking at me sadly
what have you got
in the bag?
I opened the bag

it's that Robin Hood book
I bought it
in that junk shop
on the New Kent Road

she held it
and opened it up
and looked
at the words

and  pictures
maybe next time
I can be
your Maid Marian

to your Robin Hood
she said
yes
I said

looking
at the canary
in its cage
that'd be good.

At Oslo
at the camp
after a

downpour of
heavy rain
Dalya said

there's a
hole in my
canvas tent

and the rain
comes right in
and the *****

I share with
moans at me
then goes off

and shares with
that Aussie
who she likes

and leaves me
to the wet
you can share

my tent if
you don't mind
as the bloke

I shared with
shares with that
German girl

I thought she
was Polish?
Dalya said

no German
I replied
she told me

her father
drove a tank
in the war

that's why the
Polish girl
and her mum

have nothing
to do with
her in camp

O I see
Dalya said
so she slept

in my tent
but I won't
share your bed

she told me
but what she
later did

-have hot ***-
is not quite
what she said.

She pretends
he's not there,

but he is,
over her,

making love
the third time

for that night,
she just there

legs apart,
empty heart,

he keen to,
making sounds

like a pig
in a trough,

his backside
rising up

and then down,
captured in

the moonlight,
she seeing

over his
broad shoulders.

Not his fault,
her husband,

dumb Brian,
she wishes

it was her
lover there,

dear Una,
from Dublin,

*******
softly her

******,
planting those

hot kisses
on places

Brian misses,
as she moves

over her,
******* her

not licking
as Brian

clumsy does.
O to be

with Una
in her bed

warm and close,
not with him,

dumb Brian
having ***,

getting there
once again

that sticky
***** dose.

Fay sat opposite Naaman on the bus
from outside the cinema
to London Bridge
her fair hair tied

in a ponytail at the back
wearing the lime coloured dress
that Naaman liked
the white open sandals

touching at the toes
she was quiet
and looked out
the window

as the bus moved off
Naaman studied her profile
the way her hair
was drawn back

and tied with a black ribbon
her ear
with the small ear ring
her pale cheek

the eye blue
and gazing out
one hand over
the other on her lap

the nails clean
and neatly clipped
the bus stopped
and started

and people got off
and on
talking
staring

some standing
most sitting
when the bus
came to London Bridge

they got off
and crossed the road
and down by the Thames
where they stood

looking at the passing water
you’re quiet today
Naaman said
looking at her

beside him
her elbows resting
on the low stone wall
I was almost

not allowed to come
she said
why?
he said

because the nuns said
I hadn’t performed as well
as they had expected
in my tests at school

she said
and so what happened?
he asked
my father was adamant

I was to stay home
and work at my school work
she said
but my mother said

I could do that
when I came back
and that it was only fair
that I have some time

of relaxation
and that caused a row
and then after fuming
and slamming around

the house he relented
and said I could go out
providing the visit
to London Bridge

had some historical merit
and I said it had
and that I was going
with you

she paused
and looked away
at a sailing boat
going by

and then what?
Naaman asked
he wasn’t happy about that
she replied

but I said you knew history
of the Bridge
and were going
to show me things

and he said do you
have to go
with the Jew boy?
I said I liked you

and he said
but his lot killed Jesus
and so on
Naaman gazed

at her lips as she spoke
he liked the way
her lips moved
as she talked

her eyes were bright
with an inner anger
then what did he do or say?
Naaman asked

he said I could go
but if he heard
any bad reports
there’d be trouble

and to know
what to expect
she sighed
he knew what was meant

but said nothing
how about something
to eat and drink?
he asked

I’ve only got 1/-6d
she said
which my mother gave me
on the quiet

I’ve got money
he said
my mum gave me
for chores I did

so they walked along
the embankment
to a cafe
and ordered two cokes

and shared sandwiches
and sat and talked
and watched boats
and ships pass by

on the river
she dreading going home
to her father’s possible
chastisement

but not saying
he thinking
of the Roman fort
across the water

centuries before
she looking at Naaman
thinking of the kiss last time
now wanting it more.

The rosary slips
between fingers,
pushed by thumb,
prayers said, saying,

praying. The nun
feels cramp in her
thigh, ache of knee.
Bell to ring, light

through crack in
shutters, seeps.
Like that time in
Paris. Young then,

bells from some
church, he saying,
we must visit the
Sacre Coeur. Did,

too, later, their hands
holding, thoughts
of love. That thin
sliver of light through

cracks in that shutter.
He beside her, body
warm, hands folded
between his thighs,

prayer like. Pater
Noster, thumb moves
beads, skin on wood.
And he said, Paris is

built on the bones of
the dead, he looking
straight into her eyes,
dark eyes, pools of

smooth liquid passion.
The bell rings, Matins,
she thumbs away the
last bead, prayers said,

on flight to her God.
Knees ache, thigh crampy,
she rubs to ease. He
rubbed like that, her

thigh, his hands, warm
and slowly. Rubs slowly
now, she and her hand,
to ease. Pain, what is

it for? Questions, answers,
always there. Coinage,
pain, to pay back, debt
for sins, hers, others,

here, in Purgatory. She
ceases to rub, puts rosary
down, lets it hang from
her belt as she walks from

her cell(room) along passage,
down stairs, not to rush, said
Sister Hugh, not to rush.
She holds up the hem so

as not to rub. Into the cloister,
early morning light just
about to come over the
high walls. Chill, touches,

hands, fingers, bend, open,
bend. He showed her this
trick with a coin, his hand
open, the coin there, then

he closed and opened, and
it had gone, vanished, had
mouth open, and he laughed.
Never did show how was

done, have faith, he said
laughing. The cloister, walls
high, church tower, red bricks,
flower garden around below

the walls. Silence. She learnt
that, not easy being a woman,
tongue still, interior silence,
also, Sister Josephine said,

inner silence. Harder to keep,
the inner voice hushed. She
passes the statue of Our Lady,
flowers, prayer papers, pieces,

tucked in crannies, under flower,
vases. Santa Maria audi nos.
He was coming to her, took
her in his arms and kissed her

lips, that cold morning after
the party, Paris, art, music,
it was all there. She enters
the church, puts fingers into

stoup, blessed water, makes
sigh of cross from head to
breast to breast. Sunlight seeps
through glass windows, stone

flag floor, cold, shiny, smooth.
His lips on hers, flesh on flesh,
tongue touching tongue. Long
ago, best forget, let it go. She

sits in her choir stall, takes up
breviary, thumbs through pages.
Prayer pieces of paper, many
requests sent. This one's mother

has cancer, deadly, her prayers
requested for recovery. Not
impossible, faith says so. But
she doubts, always the doubt.

She'll pray, ask, request, ask
God, for supplicants request,
but God knows best. He sees all.
Knows all. Knows me, she

thinks, better than I know myself.
Cogito ergo sum, Descartes said,
and he said it,too. He in his
pyjamas, so ****, uttering the

Descartes, hands open. I think,
there, I am, he said, I am,(naked)
therefore, I think. He laughed.
Other nuns enter, take their place

in choir stalls, sound of sandals
on wood, books being opened,
prayers whispered. Bells ring,
Mother Abbess, enters, all lower

head. Where did he go after
having *** with you? she never
did know, not then, some things
best not known. O Lord open

my lips. Shut down my thoughts.
She makes the sign of the cross.
Finger, *******, from
forehead to breast to breast.

Smells, air, fresh, stale, bodies,
old wood and stone, she standing,
praying, all together, all alone.

There was something
about the peasant in her
as she lay there
in the tall grass
the sun shining on her
the white clouds overhead

birds in flight
there was that aspect
of the peasant
in the simplicity

of her manner
the gesture of hands
the look
of the big blue eyes

and the skirt pulled up
nakedness revealed
and he
lying beside her

taking in
her whole aspect
the summery smell
the heat

the almost airlessness
about them
distant train
steam sounds

and she said
you're to tell
no one of this
( she had said that

about the first kiss)
and he said
of course not
whom would I tell?

he lay his head
on her soft *******
cushion like
as if afloat

she murmuring
more words
he lost
in the softness

of her
the scent
of her mother
(borrowed lavender scent

from the dressing table)
if my mother ever heard
she said
there'd be hell to pay

so say nothing
my lips are sealed
he said
nosing between her *******

muffled words
a rush of birds overhead
her hands on him
resting on his back

he tongued her
breathing her in
you're my first
she said

at doing this
say nothing lad
his inner voice
suggested

words wound
say nowt
he felt her hips
fingers running over

finger tips sensing
smoothness
moving lower
sensed thighs

she breathed harder
words gone
utterings wordless
she spread herself

like a butterfly in flight
he pinned her there
in the tall grass
as he'd seen

butterflies pinned
to a board
in the glass box
at school

he breathed in
she breathed out
he smelt apples of her
mixture of lavender

and apples
and that earthly scent
of bodies in motion
the tall grass

became an ocean
waves moved and sank
she sighed
he uttered wordless sounds

she kissed his shoulder
bit flesh
he kissed her neck
lip bit

****** skin
the summery sky
the birds silent
clouds drifted

she saw them
white over blue
over white
her palms on him

pressing
caressing
he journeying
to a heaven

birds gone
sky above him
unseen
just the ocean moving

a huge expanse
of green.

Miss Graham put on
the record player
a black LP

of some Beethoven stuff
and you and Reynard
sat at the back

of the class
writing down
other kids’ names

backward
or guessing
which girl

had the biggest ****
or had had their first kiss
and with whom

and Miss Snoot
down at the front
thin and gaunt

sat with her head
laying on
her folded arms

taking in
the music
her right finger

conducting
an invisible orchestra
her dark hair

brought tight
in a bunch
by a ribbon of green

and Reynard said
who'd kiss
her lips or cheek?

she's a titless wonder
he added
you wondered

how the music
had taken her
to some other place

how her finger moved
how her closed eyes
might one day

open on
an unexpected
husband

who would kiss
and do whatever
but Reynard had

undressed her
in his mind
describing each

and every article
of clothing he'd removed
and the music

had darkened
and grown heavier
and Miss Graham

scanned you all
through thin
framed spectacles

her eyes focusing
on Reynard
then you

then away again
and Miss Snoot
whose finger had retired

just lay there
seemingly asleep
like one too tired

whose thin frame
like one half starved
lay slightly in motion

to the music's drug
and despite
Reynard's rude words

beside in your ear
stirred in you
the odd desire

upon her cheek
and frame
to kiss and hug.

Miriam sat on the coach next to the boy Benedict shed met him at Dover Priory Station as they both got in the double decker bus to the ferry port can I sit next to you? shed asked him sure hed said and moved over in the seat to allow her to sit on the already crowded bus and the bus took off to the ferry port with its packed bus of passengers Miriam didnt want to spend the next two weeks of her holiday abroad alone and even though there would be about thirty in the holiday package she knew no one and some were in couples married or otherwise or lone girls like her or the single boys whom she felt were not her kind except this boy seemed a bit different although she couldnt quite put her finger on what it was and when they got off the bus and onto the ferry she stayed near him as much as possible talking when she could or stood next to him as they looked out at the sea once the ferry had left the port and once they had arrived at Calais and disembarked from the ferry she followed him onto the coach where she said can I sit next to you? if you like he said  did you want to sit by the window? if I could she said and he allowed her to go in first and once she was settled in her seat he moved in beside her and lay his head on the back of the seat and closed his eyes she looked out the window waiting for the coach to take off are you sure you dont mind me sitting here? she asked no of course not he said not opening his eyes good to have company and pretty company she smiled and turned and gazed at her reflection in the glass of the window as best she could she never considered herself pretty what with her tight red  curly hair and her freckled face and bright blue eyes and a mouth she thought too wide she pulled a face at herself and looked away she settled back in the seat and lay her head on the rest at the back of the seat and tried to sleep for a while but she was too restless and opened her eyes and sat gazing at the passengers still boarding the coach her hands were restless she wanted to do something with them so she tucked them between her thighs out of the way and stared out the window a few stragglers were still waiting to board the coach she ought to have got the book out of her case to read on the journey now she had nothing to do but look out the window or at her fellow passengers or close her eyes and sleep she gazed at the boy Benedict beside her his eyes still closed soon be off she said to him hope its soon he replied me too she said hoping he would open his eyes and look at her but he didnt he just lay there with his eyes closed then after a few minutes the coach started up and the coach began to move from the Calais port and onto a road were off she said he opened his eyes and looked past her head about time he said and looked at the passing view she studied him sitting there with his hazel eyes and quiff of hair brown and wavy isnt it exciting she said to be actually taking off he gazed at her and smiled taking off what? from the port she said catching his smile what did you think I meant? nothing its my imagination goes riot at times she looked at him what did you think Id take off something? she said well could take off that jumper its too hot for it at the moment she raised an eyebrow is it? she said aren't you hot? he asked she supposed she was rather when she thought about and so she took of her jumper and tucked it behind her and sat back on it is that better? she asked I like the tee shirt he said she looked down at the tee shirt it had two rabbits where her ******* were what are their names? he asked what? she said the rabbits what are their names? he said I dont know she said I havent given them names he smiled how can you not name rabbits with names? she shrugged theyre not real rabbits theyre only printed rabbits on cloth she said still rabbits though he said printed or otherwise she smiled ok what shall I call them then?she asked thats up to you he said what names do rabbits have? all sorts of names she said did you have rabbits as a child? he asked yes I did she said reflecting back two white ones Fluffy and Snowy she said smiling so which one will be Fluffy and which Snowy he asked pointing to the two printed rabbits on her tee shirt you choose she said which one looks most like Fluffy? he studied the two rabbits closely mmm think the one of the right looks more fluffy than the one of the left so that one is Snowy? she asked yes I guess so he said the driver switched on the radio and classic music filled the coach thats Chopin Benedict said what is? she said I thought we decided on Snowy no the music he said its a Chopin piece is it? she said yes a sonata I think she gazed at him and he looked at her so how often will you feed the rabbits? feed them? she said sure you got to feed rabbits or theyll die of hunger he said smiling theyre not real rabbits she said smiling at him they look real he said sitting there all kind of innocent and hungry but theyre not real except maybe I will feed them later just to please you she said o good he said and dont forget to give them plenty of strokes rabbits like to be stroked maybe later I will she said looking at him taking in his bright hazel eyes gazing at her eyes of bright blue maybe later she said you can stroke them too.

We were on the bomb site
off Meadow Row
Helen was re clothing
her doll Battered Betty

I was looking for small stones
for my catapult

over the way
by the coal wharf
coal men were loading up
the trucks
and horse drawn wagons

these clothes
have just about had it
she said
buttoning up
Betty's dress
at the back

Mum said she'd look for more
at the jumble sale
but Dad's not earning
as much at present
as he was off sick
she added  
sitting Betty
in an upright position

Helen was wearing
a dull grey dress
and white ankle socks
her thick lens glasses
made her eyes appear
larger than a were

I’ll ask my mother
if she can knit some
she's good at knitting
I said

maybe if I show her
she will know the size
Helen said

I picked up a handful
of small stones
and put them
in my trouser pocket

hope you're not
going to fire them at birds?
she said

no tin cans or bottles
I said
sometimes I stand tins
on top of each other
then shoot them off
one by one if I can

a boy near where I live
shoots birds
with his catapult
she said

I shot at a rat
on our balcony
the other week
I said
missed it
but it took off afterwards

she picked up Betty
and said
where we going?

let's go to the herbalist
and get some sarsaparilla
I said

and a liquorice stick too?
she asked

sure we will
I said
showing her the 1/-
my mother gave me
for doing chores

so we walked off
the bomb site
and across the New Kent Road
and down by
the railway station
towards the herbalist shop

she with her doll

and me with my catapult
sticking out
of my back pocket
and a pocketful
of small stones

she with her brown hair
in plaits

and me with my hair
plastered with Brylcreem

me thinking of seeing
a new cowboy film

she with her own
dolls house dream.

The coach is parked outside the gospel church along Rockingham Street. Brown with a yellow line along the side with the name of the coach company's name: RICKARD'S.

Janice stands next to her grandmother waiting to get on the coach; she's wearing  a flowery dress and a white cardigan and brown sandals. Next to Janice's grandmother is Benedict and his mother and Benedict's younger sister Naomi.  Members of the gospel church who have organized the day out to the seaside are ticking off names from a list.

Weather looks good- the grandmother says, eyeing the sky which is blue as a blackbird's egg.

Benedict's mother looks skyward. - It does, hope it stays that way. Benedict looks at Janice; she smiles shyly. She's wearing the red beret. Her hair looks nice and clean brushed. Sit next to her on the coach.

Wouldn't surprise me if it isn't a little cold by the coast- the grandmother says, looking at Benedict's mother, seeing how tired she looks, the little girl beside her sour faced.

Maybe, hopefully it won't be for their sakes- the mother says, looking at the coach and the tall gospeller with the one eye. - mind you behave, Benny, no mischief.

That goes for you, Janice, no mischief or you'll feel my hand- the grandmother says, her voice menacing, and don't forget to make sure to know where the loo is don't want you wetting yourself.

Janice blushes looks at the pavement-  I always behave, Gran, and yes, I'll find the lavatory once we get there, she says.

One Eye ticks off Janice and Benedict's names; his one eye watching them as they board the coach,and sit by the window, and look out at the grandmother and Benedict's mother and sister. Kids voices; smell of an old coach stink; the window smeary. Janice waves; her grandmother waves back. Benedict waves; his mother waves and smiles, but his sister looks down at the pavement.

One Eye and two other gospellers stand at the front of the coach calling off names and the kids respond in return in a cacophony of voices, then they sit down at the front and the coach starts up. A last minute of hand waving and calling out of goodbyes and the coach  pulls off and away along Rockingham Street.

Well, that's it, just us now- Benedict says, looking out of the window, looking past Janice.

No more bomb sites after this for a few hours- Janice says, no more being made embarrassed by Gran. I know she worries, but I am eight and a half years old, not a baby.

That's the elderly for you- Benedict says, always thinking us babies when we're almost in double figures.

Janice smiles. She looks at Benedict. He's wearing a white shirt and sleeveless jumper with zigzag pattern and blue jeans. He's left his cowboy hat at home; his six-shooter toy gun has been left behind, also. Glad he came; like it when he's near; I feel safe when he's about.

Have you any money?- Benedict asks.

I've  two shillings- she says, Gran said I might need it.

I've got two and six pence- Benedict says, my old man gave me a shilling and my mother gave me one and sixpence.

The coach moves through areas of London Benedict doesn't know. He looks at the passing streets and traffic.

Billie, my canary, has learned new words- Janice says.

What words has he learned? - Benedict asks, looking at Janice's profile; at her well shaped ear, the hair fair and smooth.

Super, pretty and boy- Janice says.

Talking about me, is he?- Benedict says.

No, about himself- Janice says, but who taught him the words neither Gran or I know. Was it you? She asks.

Me? why would I teach him to say those words?- Benedict says. If I was going to teach him words they'd be naughty words.

You haven't have you?- Janice says, or I'll get the blame; Gran thinks I taught Billie those words when I didn't.

Well, I may have said certain words in his presence when I came round the other week- Benedict says.

Was it you who taught him to say Billie without a *****?- Janice says.

Benedict looks down at his hands in his lap. Did he actually say it?- Benedict says.

Janice nods. I got in trouble over that- she says, gran thought I taught him; came close to getting a good smacking, but she thought it over and said she didn't think I would.

So, who does she think taught him?- Benedict asks.

Janice raises her eyebrows. Who do you think?- she says.

So, please don't teach Billie words- Janice says, or I could be for it.

Sorry- he says, looking at her, thought it'd be a laugh.

Gran doesn't share your sense of humour- Janice says. Now she wonders if she ought to let you come around anymore, and I like you coming around. So please don't teach Billie words.

I won't- he says, not a word, not a single word.

She smiles and kisses his cheek. He blushes. What if the other boys on the coach saw that? How would he live it down? Girls and kisses. He's seen it in films at the cinema. Just when a cowboy gets down to the big gun fight some woman comes along and spoils it with that kissing stuff. He's seen Teddy Boys who seem quite tough, spoil that impression when a girl gets all gooey and kisses them.

Janice looks out the window, watches the passing scene. She like it when Benny's there. She doesn't like most boys; they seem rough and tough; seem loud and spotty and smell sweaty, but Benny is different, he's tough in a gentle way, has good manners and that brown quiff of hair and his hazel eyes that seem to look right through her, right into her very heart.

Benedict doesn't think other boys saw the kiss; he sits feeling the slight dampness on his cheek; he doesn't think having a kiss, makes him look weak.

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

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

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

its head
and cause
my laughter,
as if my laughing

was a kind
of betrayal
of my grief
or a hint

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

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

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

more chance
of forgetting
self or my
own image wiped

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

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

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

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

Milka waited by the gate
of the farmhouse
for him to arrive

her brothers waited also
for he was their friend first
even if she had
drawn in him

with her emotional tide
I showed him how
to drive a car

one said
and I showed him
how to ride a motorcycle
said the other

in a field
Milka said
just in a ******

farm field
they sniggered
what have you shown him?
the oldest brother asked

yes what fine skills
have you taught him?
the other said laughing

wouldn't you like to know
she said stormily
folding her arms
and avoiding their stares

they guffawed
in the background
then proceeded

to practice their judo
until he arrived
she turned
and glimpsed them

now and then
but all she wanted
was for him to arrive

just a quick word
and maybe kiss
before her brothers
collared him

for the judo practice
the last time he came
and practiced

he had them both down
on the ground in minutes
and she stood
and clapped and cheered

what had she shown him?
that was between
she and him

not for her snooping
brothers to know
she looked up
the narrow road

that led to the farmhouse
but he wasn't in sight
just a car

then a tractor
slowly moving along
whose driver waved
(and she embarrassed

waved back)
one of her brothers
was on the ground

the other stood triumphantly
hands in the air
she looked away
she caught

the summery air
the sight of birds
in flight

but not him
and she'd put on
her new jeans
and top( too tight

her mother said)
with a flowery pattern
then he was coming

over the hill
riding his bike
and the ******
of excitement

ran through her being
and she stood expectantly
by the gate

trying to appear casual
unconcerned
and he dismounted his bike
and came over

his Elvis style quiff
his jeans and shirt
and despite herself

she stood there on tiptoes
her body tingling
and he smiled
and shyly kissed

her cheek
and touched her hand
then walked to her brothers

and they came at him
with their judo moves
and taunts and laughter
and she stood there

watching
sensing the kiss
on her cheek

burn into her skin
and light a fire
of passion within
waiting and watching

feeling his touch
on her hand
(not to be washed off)

and she rubbed
her finger along
where he had laid
his touch

and inwardly
she mused
and thought

o God
o too much.

Ole would have loved
New York
he often said
he’d like to go

before untimely death
intervened
and stopped the show
I can see him now

treading at his own
casual pace
walking the sidewalks
taking in the streets

block by block
glancing down alleys
seeking out
the dives or clubs

hearing the music
in the smoky air
visiting a bar or two
having a beer

or Jameson whiskey
sitting on a bar stool
alone in his quiet manner
dressed in his black

overcoat
dark glasses
and black hat
(even in summer

he felt the cold)
maybe then
he was getting old
not saying

as was per norm
what troubled him
no one telling him
what to do

I can see him
go in the stores
and walk
in his usual

laid back tread
taking in a show
on Broadway
and being in spirit

not flesh and blood
getting in to see
for free
and that

would have brought on
his Mutley chuckle
that infamous Ole grin
or smile

but I guess
he may not
have gone alone
but have gone

with some other
in their ghostly shade
a Hendrix
or Jim Morrison

walking side by side
and I wish
it could have been me
there by his side

drinking in
his gentle quietness
and deep breath
if he hadn’t had

that sudden
out of the blue
untimely
29 year old death.

Ole planned
to go

to Las Vegas
but he didn't make it

his untimely death
got in the way

(such are the plans
of mice and men

they say)
he even noted it

on his
Face Book page

mentioned
in passing

as if
a whole clear road

was visible ahead
(now he's dead)

but I can can see him
now in spirit

making his
own way there

taking in
the bright lights

the neon signs
the shows

to be seen
(getting in for free too

what a Mutley laugh
that will bring)

and Ole
in his black hat

and coat and shirt
and dark shades

making his way
at his own

slow pace
around the casinos

his ghostly hand
pulling a few arms

of one armed bandit
machines

while the punters
look on

**** witless
as the arm

goes down
again and again

or in the other games
I can see you

taking your own part
your sense

of gamble and fair play
wandering the tables

ghostly whispering
advice

(in your quiet voice
being nice)

having a cool beer
at the bar

or Jim Beam
or Jameson

if they've got it
you sitting there

the barman unaware
you there

taking in
the whole scene

the big shows
the bright lights

neon signs
wish I

could go there
with you

walk at your side
sharing a beer

or whiskey
a soft conversation

or that special silence
we often shared

when words
weren't needed

where the bond
was strong

go to Vegas my son
go to Las Vegas Ole

take in
the whole scene

of Vegas fun
my departed son.

You would have loved
Edinburgh Ole
another place
you never got to see

you wanted to go
I know
I could have been
your guide

I know the place
like the back
of my proverbial hand
could have taken you

along Princes Street
taken you up
Scott's Monument
up the narrow stairs

to the top
or in the gardens below
with flowers
and seats

the bushes
or up
the Royal Mile
with all its history

and sights
we could have gone
into the Castle
and viewed

each historical inch
(you would have
dug that all
that silent history

waiting
to be ****** in)
the one 0' clock gun
the view from the top

over all the city
but I can see you now
making your own
way there

(in spirit)
in your own
good time
walking in

your own casual pace
in your Doors tee-shirt
and blue jeans
the dark shades

the hair fresh cropped
short maybe
showing the scars
your smile(great smile)

taking in
a few bars
on the way
breathing in

the smell of beer
and scotch a
small taster
in your silver case

in your back pocket
you standing
on Arthur's Seat
having walked

to the top
(maybe breathless)
and seeing
the horizon

beyond the City's touch
enjoy Ole
make it
when you can

miss you
my son
my Ole
my man.

Ole used to like
the He-Man
TV cartoon series
and would enact

the main character
about the house
and stairs
and sofa

with a toy sword
tucked in the back
of his shirt
then one day

I took him
to the cinema
to see
the big screen

film version
of He-Man
with loud
booming voices

and music
and the bad guys
looking gruesome
and so on

and he began to say
he needed the crapper
and so off we went
outside and along

to the men's crapper
then back again
and sat down
to watch the film

then after a while
he would say
he wanted
the crapper again

and so off we went
and back again
and so after
the fourth visit

I said
do you want
to go home?
he nodded

in his own unique way
and off we went home
him silent
and me wondering

and knowing
that he'd been scared
but not wanting
to admit to it

he feigned the need
for the crapper
not knowing I knew
but I kept

his street cred
and smiled
down at him
and never said.

They say three thousand men
Died on Omaha Beach
In 1944;
Far from their mother’s arms

And their father’s proud reach,
Brave men, who walked the path
Of death, paid the highest
Cost with their bone and flesh,

Another red sea was
This, coloured by rivers
From young men’s veins, lost limbs,
Lost lives, and battered brains,

And far from homes across
The sea and loved one’s touch
And kiss and hold. Such is
The price of peace, the cost

Of war, remember them
And the high price they paid
And where their bones are laid.

O Miss Pinkie said – she dropped the Mrs once her divorce came through although being a Catholic it didnt amount to much- if I could have my life over again and had the wisdom I have now and a lot of understanding of the human machine Id have lived differently and not married the **** I  did but there you go we must live forward and not backward although at times we wish we could but we cant so there you are and as a child coming from a strict Catholic family church going and the Mass were our Sundays highlight or so it seemed at the time and the priest as often at our house as a neighbour or a member of the close family and would come and sit and drink and eat and say things about others and how so and sos daughter had gone by the  wayside and needed taking in hand and my father said any daughter his going by any wayside would get a good tanning of their backside and the priest saying that is a way going from homes now but my father said not here Father not here and it was true as my sister knew as she was many a time feeling his hand on her backside if she step out of line and me too now and then and my mother stood in his shadow and said do as your father says and would shake a finger at us if she thought we were out of step with our fathers wishes and a cousin wanted to join the Little Sisters and encouraged me to go too and talked me into it when I was old enough and with my fathers blessing- blessing being his agreement or his say so- and he said I know what men are like youre better off there with the Sisters than with with some of the specimens around here in Glasgow to wed and bed so I joined the Little Sisters as did the cousin and were set to become brides of Christ but I couldnt settle to it never had the vocation for the life what with all those maidens and their narrow views and the cousin went first and within a month or two was out with a man named Scott and before you could say hows your ***** off for spots she was up the aisle dressed in the white with the thin rod of a man beside her and within a seventh month she dropped a babe- his we assumed- and then just before I was due to take my simple vows I left too much to my fathers annoyance and being put out by it he said nothing to me for months on end turned his back on me if I entered the house- lived after leaving with my cousin her her thin man and the babe in a room in the attic- but he came around and knowing he could no more put me over his knee he used his words to have a go at me if I stepped beyond his likes then I met the man who was to be and was my husband and on the first date- the cinema where else- it was kiss kiss and fiddle fiddle in the back rows with others also so inclined and after a few weeks he had me in his bed-he lived in digs as he called them- and I knew nothing then about *** or anything relating to that side of matters and I was surprised by what he was doing and where and how and I said is this how it is? and he said it was and had always been so and so it was and I got to enjoy it after the first few times and then we had our child a boy and then my husband got a job away a lot and then he started having it with other women or girls while away and I had it fewer and fewer times until one day I found out about them all and I said no more with me and he said good and left and that was it and I brought up our son on my own until he left home to get a job abroad and I was alone and began needing to work myself having no husband to support me and it was there that my met young Baruch-Benedict he called himself but I liked Baruch better- and at first I never thought about him and *** and that because he was nineteen years younger than I was and I was old enough to be his mother but he had that way with him and he said can I come to your place I want to read you some my my writings and so I said yes and he came and I gave him whiskey or wine and I put on music on the record player and he read his work and I watched him read and sensed him near me and the drink softened him up and the music got to him and he said I need you and I said in what way? he said in what way and I went and undressed and came back in a kimono and he said I looked like a Japanese woman he once saw in a book and he drank more and then he undressed and so it began almost every other night after work in the evenings hed come around and we had drinks and he brought some Mahler and  we played that and it became our love music and he had me in ways id not been had before and played at spanking me prior to ******* me- as he called it- and it reminded me of my father- the spankings not the *** of course- and it made me tingle and sometimes it was on my double bed often or not if we couldnt make it on the sofa with the Mahler symphony blaring away and the glasses empty and him over me and I eyeing him or closing my eyes imagining him and sometimes he was underneath me and it was him and me and Mahler and his hand on my behind and him in me and hed say come on come on and I was becoming out of breath feeling my age or so it seemed then he met some young girl and that was it I was alone again and sat listening to Mahler and I drank my ***** thinking of him knowing he would leave after all he was just a boy I was getting to be older but wanting to recall our nights together and Mahler and whiskey and that time we had it on the carpet the carpet soft and thick and he saying wheres the fence where can we ride? and we laughed and that time at work in the wash room where I got him stiff as a rifle and ready to shoot but it was too public and he had to walk it off but then he left work and it became a mere echo of former days my hair less dyed letting my hairs become different coloured greys.

You and Ingrid
bummed a ride
on the back
of the coal truck

the spring holiday underway
Ok
said the coal truck driver
but keep

your heads down
don't want to get
pulled over
by the rozzers

and so you both
climbed in the back
of the truck
settling down

between sacks of coal
covered over
by tarpaulin
with just a slit

for light and air
and you and she
just sitting there
she clothed

in an old green dress
and  cardigan of grey
brown scuffed shoes
and grey socks

you in jeans
and blue shirt
open necked
and sleeveless

patterned jumper
never been
in the back
of a coal truck before

Ingrid said
mustn't get too *****
in case Dad finds out
and leathers me one

you watched
as she sat there
in the semi-dark
gazing out

through the slit
at the thin
aspect of sky
hands on her knees

biting her lip
been once before
with Jimmy
but then it rained

and we got drenched
you said
what did your parents say?
Ingrid asked

nothing much
you replied
Mum moaned a bit
but the old man said nothing

just stared
as he blew smoke
from his cigarette
through his nose

God my dad'd go mad
if I had done that
she said
pulling her knees

together hands
holding on the top
I'd not be able
to sit for a week  

he'd beat me such
she added
moving
with the movement

of the truck
you said nothing
knowing her old man
seeing him often

walking through the Square
swaying with the *****
or seeing her mother
bruised and battered

crossing to the shops
enduring neighbours' whispers
for a while she was silent
looking through the slit

as the sky drifted by
as the truck moved
you swayed
side to side

her shoulder
against yours
her arm touching yours
the smell of wet washing

and of yesterday's dinner
captured on her clothes
seeping in your nose
now and then

she spoke
of this and that
of kids at school
of names called

of hair pulled
and how she liked it
when she saw you
enter school

and your kind words
and helpful ways
and when the driver
pulled off the tarpaulin
to get out sacks of coal
daylight blew out
your eyes
and made you smile

and cheered your hearts
you shared the sandwiches
you'd brought
and bottle of lemonade

factory made
sitting on the truck floor
she nibbling a sandwich
and drinking shyly

from the lemonade bottle
after you'd wiped
the top with the palm
of your hand

her eyes on you
her lips open for words
her knees pressing together
to keep the balance

as the truck
moved on and away
just you and she
on a bright spring day.

People build their own prisons,
she said, build up their own walls.
He said nothing, knowing not
what to say. He liked just that

she spoke, her voice, the tone
and timbre of it. As she spoke he
watched her lips move, the way
her tongue danced inside her mouth,

upon teeth. Mental wards are full
of people who have totally entombed
themselves, she added, placing one
of the sandwiches she’d bought

inside her mouth, while she spoke.
The park bench was hard, there
was a smell of spring in the air,
he watched her chew, now silent,

her mouth closed, masticating.
Her silence drew his attention to
the way she sat, one leg crossed over
the other, the black shoe and foot

dangling. The lower length of stockinged
leg, showing, the dark skirt just over
the knee, nothing else to see. He lifted
his gaze to her cloth hidden thighs,

the way they disappeared into her
waist, slim, drawn in. Ones I used to
see on my tour of the wards had drooling
mouths and cross eyes, she said,

swallowing the small sandwich bits.
He moved his eyes from her waist to
her impressive ****, let his eyes settle,
rested them there, as if they were weary

travellers after a long journey.  And the
smell, she added, reeked of *****; everywhere
one put one’s nose. He wanted to lay his
head between or upon or even beneath

those beautiful *******. She jawed on, he
wasn’t listening anymore, he was engrossed
in a different story, an actor in a different play.
She took another sandwich and was silent

again, staring at him, taking his measure,
unaware, no doubt, of his silent pleasure.

Yiska sat
on my lap
on the wall

by the lab
in lunch break
at high school

sunshine warmed
so did she
I held her

slender waist
smelt perfume
her mother's

whispered voice
in my ear
my brother

will tell if
he sees us
Yiska said

will tell whom​?
my mother
and she'll rant

at me then
for ages
she kissed me

soft wet lips
on my lips
sound of kids

on the field
and playground
out of sight

we kissed more
hopefully
your brother

won't see us
I told her
my hand touched

her soft thigh
above us
a swallow

in the blue
of the sky.

Chanan studied Shlomit
from afar. She sat
with a man and a child,

talking, smiling at least
on the man’s part.
The child played games

on her mother’s iPod.
Chanan noted unease
in Shlomit’s features,

eyes behind spectacles
looked at the man,
more at the child,

whose tiny nimble fingers
played on.  The man laughed,
teased the child, Shlomit

eased out uncertain smiles,
hand on her coffee cup,
other hand in her lap.

Chanan took in
her sandaled feet,
the red painted toenails,

the hair pulled
into a bun.  
He watched as she

raised the cup
to her lips,
sipped,

gazed at the man,
talked.
The man, legs crossed,

hands holding
a mug of tea,
his head to one side,

seemingly to enquire,
spoke in turn.
Chanan over

his Earl Grey
watched the child
at play,

the fingers intent
on her game,
her mother beside her,

eyed her,
losing interest
in the man’s chatter,

touched
her daughter’s hand.  
Chanan sipped his tea,

looked away,
carried his images
in mind, set

a different scene,
of a different kind.
The man and child

not there,
just Shlomit
and he

setting sail
in a small ship
on a vast wild sea.

The young monk
stood in the cloister,
half in shade,
half in light;

his thin hands
hidden
in the wide
black sleeves

of his habit.
Three black robed monks
met me
on the narrow road

to the abbey.
A bell tolled
from the bell tower,
loud and clear

over the fields,
disturbing birds
from trees.
An old monk,

bony,
sickened,
knelt in a prayer
on his frail knees.

Isolde looks from the window
of her old bedroom,
she's not been in there
since they took her
to the asylum years before.

Tristana, her lover,
is sitting on a white chair
on the lawn
talking to Isolde's mother.

Her mother has the same
pinched features,
thin lips as if drawn
across in ink,
the narrow nose,
peering eyes.

Isolde smells
the mustiness
of the room,
the curtains the same,
the wallpaper fading.
Her mother's eyes  
have a look
of fear in them.

Her sister sits
beside her mother
hawk-like,
hands on the arms
of the chair,
eyes fixed
with that steady stare.

Isolde recalls
the last time
in the room:
the night they
came for her,
men in white coats,
the ambulance waiting,
flashing lights,
voices shouting,
her sister crying,
her father ordering
this and that
(the prat).

Father's dead now,
good riddance,
she muses,
running a finger
down the pane of glass,
seeing her lover
sitting there,
gesturing with her hands,
head tilted to one side.

Not once
did her mother visit her
in the asylum,
not a word sent
or love or concern
expressed.

She sits on the bed,
the springs complain,
the bedspread
pushes out dust.

She remembers Tristana
that first time
in the asylum,
that first meeting,
the side ward,
the nurse dragging her
along the passage,
cursing, gripping
her nightgown.  

The fat nurse let her
drop by the bed;
Tristana sat on the floor
wide eyed,
opened mouthed.

Isolde had struck the nurse
with the flower vase,
smashed it,
flowers spread
across the floor.

The nurse's head bled.
Looked worse than it was.
She smiles.
They locked her up
for weeks for that,
saw none,
except the nurses
who fed
and bathed her
cruelly.

Worth it.
She moves on the bed,
the springs sing.

She gets up
and goes
to the window again.

Tristana is subdued now;
the mother is talking,
moving her hands in the air
as if learning to fly.

Her sister sits crossed legged,
hands on her knees.
Dumb expression.
The mother mouths words,
moves her head
to one side bird-like.

Isolde recalls
the first kiss
on Tristana's lips.
In the toilets
off the ward,
evening time,
overhead lights
flickering.

Lips meeting,
soft, wet,
eyes closed.

They slept in
Tristana's bed
in dead of night,
close for warmth,
hands holding,
bodies touching.

The mother looks up
at the window,
her eyes empty,
hollow dark holes.
She gestures to Isolde
to come down,
her thin hand
moving icily.

Isolde walks
from the window.
On the glass,
where she had breathed
breath to smear,
she had finger written,
Isolde's mind and soul
once died here.

She sits on the chair
her wavy hair
still neatly in place
putting on her stockings

as he stands
with his back
to the window
gazing at her

she pauses
her fingers holding
the stocking tops
and looks at him

and says
in her sluttish French
do you want me
back tomorrow?

there is a draught
from the window
touching his naked back
sending a shiver

along his spine
sure
he says
but make it a little later

the wife’s got
a show to see
and she doesn’t leave
till just after 8

ok
she says
pulling up
the stocking

and fixing it
to the clip
shall I bring anything
with me?

no just yourself
he says
and maybe wear
that tight skirt

and creamy blouse
and those black stockings
she stands
and pulls down

her slip
to cover
her underwear
and looks around

for her dress
look
he says beware
of the concierge

she’s a nosey old biddy?
she asks
biddy what is that?
just be careful of her

he says
don’t let her
see you leave
or she’ll tell

the wife
oh I see
sure I will be careful
of the biddy

she says
picking up her dress
from the chair
by the bed

and as she turns away
he studies
her neat ***
the way she climbs

into the dress
her hands so quick
in movement
the finger so precise

like those of a pickpocket
and he sees her leg rise
the stockinged leg
the fineness of the thigh

then she turns toward him
and she smiles
and she starts
on the other leg

and he wonders
what his wife would say
if she came in now
how’d she’d look

then it’s over
the dame’s dressed
puts on her coat
and picks up her bag

and takes the money
he’d put on the desk
and shoves it
into the bag

and sighs
and leaves
and as she goes out
the door

waggling her ***
he knows
he wants her back
some more.

Despite the fact
that other local kids

were in the hay barn playing
Jane stood at the barn doors

looking in apprehensively
and you stood beside her

waiting for her to move in
or say something

but she just stood looking in
are we allowed in to play?

she asked
sure as long as we don’t

cause damage to the hay bales
you replied

and she sniffed the air
and moved in

and looked around
the huge barn

with its semi dark
and smells of hay

and captured sun
and warmth

the other kids played
but took no notice

of Jane or you
as you entered

closed the doors
and moved around

the hay strewn floor
haven’t you been

in a hay barn before?
you asked looking

at her bright summer dress
and white socks and sandals

yes years ago
she said

as she paused
at the edge

of the nearest hay bale
and sat down

and you sat beside her
in the semi dark

with sunlight making
small light through cracks

and holes in the walls
I don’t like mice and rats

she said
and I saw one once

in another barn
and it frightened me

you sat in silence
for a few moments

taking in the air and smells
and then the other kids

ran off out side
into the sunlight

talking of playing
down by the pond

and catching things
you sat still

until their voices died off
and then she said

why have you
brought me in here?

you looked at her eyes
in the dull light

and her lips moving
with their small speech

to be alone with you
without prying eyes

you said
oh I see

she replied
and stood up

and climbed upwards
on the hay bales

with you following
behind her

seeing her sway
as she moved

her hands pulling
her upwards

her legs taking each step
onto a hay bale carefully

then having reach
high up in the barn

she sat down
and you sat beside her

if my father saw me here
he’d think things

Jane said
and she looked at you

with her large eyes
what things? you asked

watching her lay back
with her hands

behind her head
I don’t know

he never said
she muttered

as she lay there
she lifted a leg

and her dress
slipped downwards

revealing a glimpse
of naked thigh

that’s parents for you
you uttered

never saying
what they think

or saying things
but don't explain

you lay down
beside her

on the hay
as outside the barn

the soft sound
of pitter patter

on the roof
of sudden rain.

An old friend
once told me
Benedict

you only have
the day now
yesterday

has gone
tomorrow
is a promise

that may
not come
live each moment

as if
it were
your last

and make
the lives
of others

better
for having
known you

and felt
your love
and concern.

Mrs Dryden
sat behind you
on the beach
combing your hair

you watching
the racing tide
the sounds
on the shingle

the other people
sitting or walking
or playing ball
or flicking Frisbees

each to each
her fingers
parting strands
patting down

waves of hair
she maybe reflecting
on the night before
in the cheap hotel

the creaking bed
the second rate
furniture
the Full English breakfast

she having
a young guy
between her thighs
she spoke

of her husband’s failings
his betrayals
his preference
for younger women

you taking in
the scarcely cladded girls
sitting or walking the beach
out of your safety zone

out of reach  
and Mrs Dryden’s fingers
moving down your jowls
her lips kissing

your neck
at the back
her breath
whispering words

you thinking
of Miss Fox
the year before
how you nearly went

all the way
(as they used to say)
until her parents
came back home

too soon
spoilt the fun
of one on one
look at that ship

passing over there
Mrs Dryden said
pointing out to sea
her other hand

holding yours
her words carried
on the air
and you imagining

Miss Fox
maybe sitting there.

On the way back
from the cinema
with your old man

one Friday night
he stopped
at the fish and chip shop

and ordered chips
in salt and vinegar
in a large bag

and walked home
down Meadow Row
he talking of the films

you'd seen
how he once met
the actress

in some film festival
up West
you were thinking

of the cowboy
in the film
and how well

he drew his gun
especially using
his right hand

to get the gun
from his left hand holster
a kind of cross over style

and you thought
I must try that
when I get home

get it down
to perfection
and he said he'd seen

the actor( not
the cowboy guy
some other)

in the theatre once
in some play
you thought

how you'd show Ingrid
once you had
the technique of

cross over drawing
of the gun
to a fine art

she'd sit on the grass
by Banks House
and watch

with her mouth open
as you did
your show piece

and you'd show her
how fast you could draw
your 6 shooter or

maybe you'd wear
both guns
one on each side

the old man was still
yakking on
about this actress

but you were imagining
Ingrid sitting there
on the grass

or on the bicycle sheds
listening to you talk
of the film

and how good
the cowboy was
and you saw her

in your mind's eye
( as you and your old man
crossed over Rockingham Street

and up the *****
to the Square)
sitting there

with her eyes wide open
her hands
like sleeping doves

lying in her lap
and on the leg
(as usual)

a crimson mark
from her father's
hard slap.

Anne crutched her way
from the large house

onto the lawn
where you sat with your sister

and a girl called Monica
recovering from burns

can anyone sit here
or only two legged freaks?

she asked
you don’t have to be rude?

said Monica
shut your mouth Scarface

and pull me up
a ******* chair

Anne said bluntly
you mustn’t swear

Monica said
I shall tell Matron you swore

go **** a lemon
between you legs

Anne replied standing
pulling a face

Monica and your sister
got up from the small white table

and ran off towards the swings
and left you gawking at Anne

and at her flowery dress
which came to her knees

revealing space
where a leg should have been

had your look?
Anne said looking at you

sitting in the chair
sorry

you replied
just realized

you’ve only got one leg
well stop gawking

and pull me up a chair
she said

you got up
and pulled out a chair

behind her
and she sat down with a sigh

and you sat down again
still ******* hurts

even though its not there
she said giving you a stare

what happened to your leg?
you asked

it went for a walk
and never came back

she replied
pour me a glass of juice

she ordered
and you poured her

some orange juice
into a tall glass

and gave it to her
thanks for being a saint

she said and drank a gulp
of juice then put

the glass down
on the table

and you still stared
at her missing leg

when she said
want to see the stump?

And with that
she pulled up her dress

and showed her stump
and the outline

of her white underwear
you looked at her face

and flushed a little
she pushed her right hand

through her black hair
and smiled

you should be honoured
it’s not everyone

I show my stump off to
or my ******* either

she said in a Mae West
imitational voice

thank you
you muttered softly

still carrying the image
of her leg stump

and white ******* with you
as you looked away

at the sun coming over
the tall trees and gulls

flying in the blue
morning sky

and apart from the sound
of the sea there was only

her deep painful sighs
and you (imagined)

her staring
deep blue eyes.

Anne poked Monica
the girl with burn scars
with one of her crutches

and said
Scam scar face
me and the skinny kid

want to be alone
and Monica moved off
and said

I’m going to tell
Sister Bridget about you
Anne indicated for you

to sit in one of the chairs
on the lawn
and said to Monica

Go tell her then
and kiss her ****
while you’re there

and Monica went off
and Anne eased herself
down into the other chair

and laid her crutches
against the round table
Well Kid how’s it going?

All right
you replied
Just all right?

aren’t you blown away
and isn’t your heart faster
on my approach?

she laughed
and stared at you
Well?

she said
after a few moments
of silence

Did you manage
to *** me a smoke?
you fumbled

in your shirt pocket
and pulled out
a cigarette slightly bent

Well done you
Skinny Boy
and she took the cigarette

and put it in the pocket
of her cardigan and said
I’ll have that later

when I’m in the john
having a ***
What if someone sees you?

you asked
What in the john?
I hope there’ll be

no one in the john
with me
well unless you want to come

you’re quite welcome
No
you said looking at

her straight black hair
and her dark eyes
and the one leg

sticking out
from her red skirt
she saw you staring

at her leg and said
I think you’ve fallen in love
with my lone leg

and she lifted her skirt
and revealed the leg stump
coming a little way

from her ***** line
Have a good look Kid
and she laughed

and pulled your left hand
onto the stump
and held it there

and you sensed
the warmth and softness
and when she released

your hand you seemed
to take the impression
of the leg stump

on your palm and fingers
and odd
that years after that

that impression
like some ghost
still lingers.

It was a warm day
and you were sitting on the lawn
of the nursing home
when Anne came across the lawn

on her crutches
her summer dress
flowing as she moved
come on Skinny Kid

she said
I want to show you something
what?
you said

never mind
what just follow me
and so you got up
from the chair

and followed her
across the lawn
and along the path
that went through the trees

to the back gate
open up the gate then Kid
she said
standing impatiently

while you opened
the gate
you lifted the latch
and opened the gate

and she crutched
her way through
and you followed
letting the gate

swing shut behind you
what you want to show me?
you asked
but she just cursed

and swore under her breath
and moved across
the pavement
and onto the beach

until her crutches
became stuck in the sand
and she stood still
staring out

at the sea
look at that
she said
what?

you asked
the ******* scenery
she said
pointing at the horizon

with one of her crutches
I’ve seen the sea before
you said
yes maybe

she said
but have you let it
embrace you
and hold you? she said

I’ve been in the sea sure
you said
looking at her
beside you

I want to go in
she said
you’ll get your dress wet
you said

I’ve got my swimming costume
under the dress
she said
help me get out

of this ****** dress
and I can go in
what here on the beach?
you said

undress here?
yes here
she said
now unzip me

at the back
so you unzipped
her dress at the back
and she said

now pull it
over my head
so you lifted
the hem of the dress

and began to lift it
over her body until
her dress was in your hands
and she stood

in a bright blue swimsuit
with her stump hanging
where her leg used to be
then she slowly

crutched herself
down to the sea
until she was at
the waters edge

you stood just behind her
holding the dress
right take the crutches
she said

but you’ll fall
you said
I’ll swim
she said

can you swim
with one leg?
you asked
of course

I can ******* swim
with one leg
she said
and handed you

the two crutches
and fell forward
into the sea
where she made

a big splash
and then she was off
into the sea
her leg and stump

out of sight
her arms moving in motion
and you stood there
with dress and crutches

staring at her swimming away
what if you drown?
you called out
but she just sang loudly

her voice mixing
with the sea’s sound
just you and Anne
with no one else around.

Oh don’t worry about me
said Anne

as you pushed her
in the wheelchair

along the avenue
of trees

towards the small
summer house

I can give as good
as I get

you stopped outside
the summer house

I guess you can
you said

Just because
I’ve only the one

******* leg
doesn’t mean

I can’t stand
on my own foot

and she laughed
and rocked the wheelchair

and you watched
her shoulders rise

and fall
and then she said

Open the doors
of the summer house then

Skinny Boy
I don’t want to hang

around out here
like a ****** outside

a *****’s door
so you opened the doors

of the summer house
and wheeled her in

and closed the doors
behind you

and she breathed in
the warm air

Here will do
Anne said

and you set her
by the back

and waited
by her side

and looked down
at her black hair

and the pink blouse
and the way her head

tilted to one side
Well sit down

beside me then
don’t stand there

like a limp thingamabob
on a wedding night

Ok
you said

and pulled a small chair
next to her

and she put her hand
on your knee

and gave it a squeeze
and said

Just me and you Skinny Boy
you in your short trousers

and me in my pink blouse
and flowery dress

they insist I wear
so as not to show

off my stump
and you felt

her fingers ride
along your thigh

and you put your hand
over hers to stop

the journey
of her fingers

and she said
Getting romantic Skinny Boy?

want to have a grab
of my stump?

and she took hold
of your wrist

and placed your hand
on her leg

There you go
she said

have a feel
and there was a sudden

burst of sunlight
through the glass

of the summer house
and she kissed your cheek

and somewhere outside
in the grounds

children played
and some kid laughed

but her hand
held you fast

and so there getting hot
you stayed.

You followed Anne
and some others
along the path

from the large house
out the back gate
across a sidewalk

onto the beach
and stood looking out
at the horizon

and the sea
and Anne said
watch out those ******* gulls

don’t **** on you
and some of the other kids laughed
and you stood watching how

she stood there on the beach
on her crutches
the leg missing

and she pointing up
at the seagulls flying overhead
and the smell of salt in the air

and the sound of the sea
crashing on the beach and shingles
I used to swim until I lost my leg

Anne said
but I will again someday
get my ***** all wet

and she looked around at you
to see your response
her deep blue eyes

searching you out
her tee shirt tight
to her figure

and her skirt
just above her knees
but the stump not showing

what do you reckon?
she asked you
coming closer

as the other kids
ran down onto the sands
sure you will

you said feeling her breath on you
as she stood in front of you
her small but developing *******

pressing against you
I could kiss the lips off you
she said but didn’t

she nodded for you to follow her
as she crutched onto the sands
the crutch ends sinking slightly

but still she went onwards
singing if I were a ******* seagull
I’d **** on you all

especially Sister Paul
or Sister Gail
and her loud voice

carried along the beach
and blue and white sky
like an echoing wail.

One leg Anne
crutched herself
to the window

and stared out at the rain
Look at the ******* weather
she said

she let go
of the handle
of one crutch

and scratched her thigh
you stood just behind her
watching her standing there

like a dejected Napoleon
What do you think
they’d say if I got you

to push me out
in the wheelchair
in this Skinny Boy?

she said
looking at you
over her shoulder

They wouldn’t allow it
you replied moving up
beside her

and peering out
at the rain
on the lawn and trees

I don’t give a donkey’s tail
what they’d allow
she said

being politer
than she usually was
Why do you want

to go out in the rain?
you asked
Because I hate

being shut up
in my room
or being pushed

around the corridors
like fecking Guy Fawkes
she crutched herself

away from the window
Come on Skinny Boy
let’s venture out

But we’ll get wet
you said following her
out of the room

Hush do you want
the grown ups
to know our plans of escape?

you stood beside her
by the backdoor
your eyes watched

the rain falling on
the path outside
Bring me a wheelchair

Skiing Boy
we’re going to explore
you went to the store room

and pushed a wheelchair
to where she stood
and she sat down

and gave you
the crutches
Right off we go

she said
and you opened
the door

and wheeled her out
the raindrops
pattering on

and around you both
and she bellowed
Go go

on on
and so you pushed
and the rain fell

and she laughed
and opened her arms
and her hands

and said
This is living Boy
better to live

and be wet
than dry indoors
and dead.

So I told her
Anne said
stomping around
on her crutches

like a demented Amazon
I told her
to go **** herself
Baruch blushed

at the word
his ears tingled
as if they’d been slapped
what did she say?

he asked
she said I’d go to Hell
for using words like that
Anne said

crutching herself down
by the children’s slide
and shooed away
the children playing there

I told her
I’d see her there
she added
Baruch scratched his head

what did Sister Paul
say to that?
she said
if she were my mother

she’d put me
over her knee
Anne laughed
and stomped over

to the children’s swing
where little Miss Sad
was sitting but who fled
as Anne approached

so you aren’t allowed
to go to the beach then?
Baruch asked
no Skinny Kid

or so she said
not to go
without a member of staff
he nodded his head

she pulled a face
he fiddled
with his fingers
she scratched

the stump of her leg
so what do we do?
he asked
his eyes caught

by the exposed
remaining part
of her leg
go to the beach

of course
she said
and stop gawking
at my stump

will you Kid
unless you want
to kiss it
he looked away

back at
the nursing home
behind them
what if she sees us?

she won’t
she couldn’t see a fly
on her nose
Anne retorted

but what if we get caught
down there?
he asked
think positive Kid

we won’t
they won’t miss us
no more than Sister Paul
misses ***

she said
Baruch hesitated
he hated getting
into trouble

felt uneasy
about the deed
shall I get
your wheelchair?

no then they will know
if you go wheeling that
across the grass
no we’ll walk out

the back gate stealthily
she said
he looked at her
and smiled

she stared back
towards the nursing home
he stared
where her stump hung

just beneath
the short skirt
then looked away quick
as she gazed at him

let’s go Kid
and she crutched herself
forward between
the avenue of trees  

and he followed
looking back
at the windows
of the home

wondering how many
eyes were there
but she was going on
at a determined rate

not caring a fig
leaving all things
to some unknown god
or fate.

One legged Anne
sat in her wheel chair
by the white table
on the lawn

watching the other kids
at play
on the swing
and slide

or sitting around
playing I Spy
hey Kid
she said to you

push me out
to the beach
I can't watch this crap
makes me

want to throw up
with all this
goody two shoes stuff
so you pushed her wheelchair

along the back path way
towards the back gate
where you going?
Malcolm asked

away from you lot
as far as possible
she replied
o

Malcolm said
what will Sister Paul say?
couldn't give a fig
what she says

Anne said
push on Kid
she said
so you pushed on

along the path
I'm going to tell her
Malcolm bellowed
go kiss her backside

for all I care
she bellowed back
come on Kid
push push

so you pushed
and out the back gate
and on to the path
that led by the beach

you smelt the sea
the sound of gulls
you moved along
the path pushing

the wheelchair on
here here will do Kid
she said
pointing to an area

of beach
so you wheeled her
onto the beach
but got stuck

in the sands
ok ok here will do Kid
so you stood behind her
and stared out

at the sea
and the horizon
thanks Kid
she said

here come stand beside me
and so you stood beside her
her one leg sticking out
from the short blue skirt

the stump just visible
out of the skirt's hem
thanks Kid for being a friend
she said

that's ok
you replied
thank you for helping me
out of the bath last night

she said
didn't want those pesky nuns
getting me out
with their constant

mutterings and prayers
that's ok
you said
recalling the bath episode

she calling you in
the bathroom
sitting there
in the bath

she beckoning you over
don't shut your **** eyes
how can you see
to help me out

with your
******* eyes shut
she'd said
so you remembered

putting a hand
under her arm
and she was able
to get up and out

and said
hey bring me that towel
so you recalled
bringing the towel

your head averted
here
you said
and she took it smiling

and covered herself
and began drying
and said
ok you can go now Kid

and you left
and closed the door
behind you without
looking back

see that horizon Kid?
see the seascape?
she asked
yes

you said
well that's what I want
to be like
free and open

not some hemmed in girl
with a thousand hormones
bashing against my skull
hormones? you said

what are they?
never mind
she said
you'll know

when they kick in
and she gazed out
at the sea
her black hair moved

by the slight wind
her hands on the side of the chair
just you and she
silently being there.

One legged Anne
stormed across the lawn
on her crutches
and threw herself down

into a white chair
and tossed
her crutches aside
and said

**** the missing leg
the other children
put hands over
their ears

or hurried away
to a safer distance
or went play
on the swing

or slide across the way
you sat opposite
your mouth open
and your eyes

studying her face
her mouth still uttering
expletives frightening birds
in nearby trees

what’s a matter?
you asked
her words
still vibrating

in your ears
your brain trying to sort them
into correct departments
but failing

pain
she said
******* pain
in the leg

that isn’t there
I see
you said
watching her face

go from pale pink
to bright red
I doubt it
she said

and what
does Sister Paul say to me?
you are sharing
in the agony of Christ she said

you have been chosen
to share in his pains
you spotted dribble
escape her lips

her blue skirt
had ridden up
revealing a glimpse
of naked stump

where her leg had been
I’ve enough
of my own pain
Anne said

let him share his pain
with others who might welcome it
she exclaimed
muttering more expletives

sending a butterfly
in a different direction  
some say a pain shared
is a pain halved

you uttered
noticing how the stump
had been neatly sewn
leaving only

the smallest scar
had your eyeful?
she said
want to see more

of my stump?
and she yanked her skirt upward
revealing
her navy-blue underwear

there
she said
there have a good nose
why does it still hurt?

you asked
looking away
watching your sister
on the climbing frame

with the girl with burn scars
nerve endings
Anne muttered
or some such nonsense

so they say
you turned around
as she pulled down
her skirt

and stared you out
and you noticed
how beautiful
her eyes were

set in that angry face
like angel’s eyes
set in features
of one fallen from grace.

You pushed Anne
in her wheelchair
along the path
by the beach

having left
the nursing home behind
having gone through
the back gate unseen

what will they say
when they see
we’re not there?
you asked

we’ll say
we were kidnapped
by pirates
she said

they won’t believe that
you said
who gives a ****
she replied

here we’ve got freedom
and sea air
away from the peering eyes
and all you worry about

is what they’ll say
you pushed her slower
to hear what she was saying
they’re suffocating me

Skinny kid
I can’t breathe
shut up there with
kids gawking

at my one leg
and stump
now push on
and faster

she said
you pushed her faster
looking over your shoulder
to see if anyone

was following you
but none was
where are we going?
you asked

forward and into battle
she said laughing
waving a hand in the air
drawing the attention

of people walking
along the path
and some on the beach
there Kid there

she said
pointing to an ice-cream van
by the side of the path
got any money Kid?

she asked
no I haven’t
you said
lucky for you then

that I have
she said
all this ******* way
with no ice-cream

and I’d have been
******* myself
with frustration
she muttered

as we approached the van
what are you having Kid?
you stared at the list
on the window

of the van
one of those
you said
pointing out an ice-cream

in a cone
two of those
she said
to the ice-cream man

he made up two ice-creams
and handed them to her
and she gave him
the money

and you pushed her
by the side of the beach
where she gave you one
and you sat

on the side
of a low wall
and ****** away
thank you

you said
you’re  welcome Kid
she said
and anyway

take it is a reward
for helping me out
of the bath last night
you looked away

and felt yourself blush
she smiled
her upper lip
touched by ice-cream

her eyes on you
anyway Kid enjoy the day
don’t have regrets
for not doing

and she ****** away
some more  
as you watched
the incoming waves

rushing
on the peopled shore.

Push Skinny Boy
push
Annie said
but what if Sister Paul

sees you
on the kiddies’ swing?
she’ll not be pleased
you said

to hell with Sister Paul
to hell with her
Anne said
now push me high

and so you grabbed
the wooden seat
of the swing
and pushed it outward

and off she went
upward and downward
and you stepped out
of the way

now and then
and then you pushed her
some more
higher higher

she bellowed
and up she soared
her one leg taking flight
into the air

like a wild bird
on the wing
the wind lifted
her short skirt

and the stump
of her amputated leg
showed
but she didn’t care

she just bellowed
for higher and so
you pushed as hard
as you could

that’s it Kid
that how it’s meant to be
like a ******* bird freed
up and up I go

and you stood back
and watched her fly
her skirt flapping
her stump flashing

now and then
and the other kids
calling out
I can see her missing leg

I can see her stump
o go to hell kids
she said
go wet

in your aunt’s eye
and the kids went off
and one girl shouted
I’m going to tell Sister Paul

go tell her
you little weasel
go tell her
her white ******* stink

Anne bellowed
but after a minute
or so she stopped pushing
her leg in the air

and began to slow
and you watched
her black hair
about her head

flop back in place
and the fearsome features
settle
upon her pale face.

Anne crutched her way
through the narrow path
and back gate behind you
on to the side path

that led to the beach
the sky was overcast
she moved up beside you
as you stood there

looking at the horizon
look at the sea
and sky and gulls
Skinny Boy

look at that wildness
breathe in the air
she said
fill your ****** lungs

with it
you breathed in deeply
smell of sea salt
filled you

if I had both my legs
I’d go out there
and swim
she said

she moved forward
until her foot
and crutches
touched the start

of the sand
come on Boy
breath it in
you breathed in

deep again
she stood there
her green skirt
billowing in the wind

her dark hair
blown about
this is ******* life
this is it

all I want now
is a tall ship
to sail her by
or so

the ****** poet
said somewhere
she said
you looked at her

standing like
some captain
of a ship
her skirt rising

and falling
carried by the wind
now and then
her stump showed

and her other thigh
with her white leg
what do you think Boy?
good huh?

yes
you said
breezy and fresh
you stood

trying to keep
your balance
your short trousers
moving in the breeze

the white tee shirt flapping
she crutched herself
onto the sand more
you followed

moving near her
she gripped
the crutches firm
we found that fish

on the beach
up there
you said
she looked

where you pointed
yes and they cooked it
for dinner next day
she said

and it was ******* rank
you laughed
and she grinned
it was up there

by that wave breaker
that you kissed me
she said
you made me

you replied
well you enjoyed it
didn’t you?
you nodded

the wind
carried her voice away
her words
were broken up

individual words
came here
and there
then away again

she looked up
at the darkening sky
o hell
she said

here comes
the ******* rain.

Sitting in her wheel chair
Anne stared at the sea
from the beach
where I’d pushed her

from the home
her dark hair
toyed by the breeze
her hands

on the arms
of the chair
her one leg showing
from her short

red skirt
they say the sea
gives up its dead
she said suddenly

I nodded
they say the moon
is 283,900 miles
from the Earth

I raised my eyebrows
they say the stars
we see in the sky
at night often

have burnt out
years before
so that we are seeing
ghost stars

I looked at her head
the center parting
the straight hair
they say the sun

is 93 million miles
from our planet
I stood behind her chair
gazing at the sea

and the few swimmers
out there
do you hear me Kid?
she said

yes
I replied
I hear
then answer me

do you think
I’m talking to myself
like a loon?
no

I thought
you were thinking out loud
I said
no

I was telling you stuff Kid
she said
there was a pause
she scratched

the stump of her leg
Sister Bridget says
she's still a ******
can you imagine that?

Anne said
I looked at a ship
on the horizon
no

I said
can't imagine that
why can't you imagine that?
she asked

why can't you imagine
Sister Bridget as a ******?
I don't know
I said

she looked up at me
do you know
what a ****** is?
she asked

no
I said
that's why
I can't imagine it

she smiled
and looked back
at the sea
means she's not

had ***
with a man
Anne said
I see

I said
I looked
as she rubbed
her stump

with her left hand
are you a ******?
I asked
what do you think Kid?

I'm 12 years old
I live with my parents
I go to school
I’ve one

fecking leg
I wouldn't let
a boy touch me
if he promised me

the moon
yes
I’m a ******
I nodded my head

and looked at the sea
that's good
I guess
I said.