My mother's
at the sink,
doing washing
or washing up,
I think.

My old man
made her cry
earlier that day,
but she’s humming now,
so must be OK.

I watch her
as kid's do,
study how
she moves her hands
to work and such,
but the old man
did not care
or do as much.  

My mother's
drying dishes,
eyes about to cry,
I look away
wondering
what or why?

My mother's
dead now,
laid to rest
with Jesus
or God or both
amongst the best.

Looking back
it seemed
the child

was not to be
always there,
not through lack

of love or care,
but something
that came to her

in dreams of dread
at night asleep in bed.
She tries to retake

in dreams
the child back,
to pretend

that through
wishful thinking
she can make up

the lack.
Arms fold
into cradle

as once they had
when child lay
in arm’s hold,

snuggled
and warm,
alive and moving,

seeking out with
eyes and fingers
her mother’s dug.

Rock-abye-baby
no more,
the arms

and hands
redundant,
the last time

she recalls
the dead child
in arms,

rocking
back and forth,
as if this might cure

and bring back
to life,
might stir open

eyes, jog open
lips and mouth
to ****.

Not to be
just the memory,
ill luck.

Ana, your father says,
where is the vase
your grandma gave to me?

You look at him
with your large eyes.
Not seen it, maybe

it is in the lounge
with the others?
You say.

No, I have looked there,
it is not there,
he says,

then I do not know,
Papa, you say,
looking away,

trying not to show it
in your big brown eyes,
your childlike lies.

He sighs, doesn't look
in your eyes, maybe
knowing somehow,

that you broke
the family heirloom,
but not wanting

to push it too far,
waits until you regain
your conscience to say,

if not now,
then some other day.

“Can you get your head
Off my breast,” she said,

The dead weight was killing her,
Sending messages

To her brain to get
The pain-in-the-****

Off of her, go back to sleep;
But when she gazed at him,

At his fine shaped,
Dark-haired, head,

She relented,
Let him lay his head

And thought of him
Dying there instead.

It was Wednesday morning service
in the church next to the school
and Helen sat next to you

in the old wooden pew
her eyes peering
behind her thick lens glasses

at you and she whispered
your mum’s meeting my mum
in the street market after school

and then we’re going to my house
for a cup of tea
and I can show you

my doll’s house
that my dad made
out of an orange box

and it’s got lights
and everything
you leaned your head

towards her and said
in a low voice
oh right yes that’ll be good

hoping none of your mates
could hear
especially Cogan

who only the other week
threatened to ****** your nose
but he didn’t show after school

and she smiled
and you looked at the altar
where the vicar

was lighting candles
and Mrs Murphy
was walking down the aisle  

like an aging storm trooper
in her hand knitted cardigan
and brown pleated skirt

Helen whispered
and you can see
the tiny furniture

I’ve got too  
that my mum bought
from a second hand shop

off the market
you looked at her
sitting there

in her grey jumper
and white blouse
and grey skirt

and her plaited hair
parted in the middle
and her bright eyes

magnified by the glass lens
and you said
I look forward to it

and she rubbed your hand
with hers
and then looked ahead

at the lighted candles
and sniffed in the incense
in the air and her hand

moved to pick up
a hymn book
and you sensed where

her hand had been
like some angel’s touch
as if to bless

well that’s what
it seemed like to you
more or less.

The squat,
Yorkshire monk,
pulls on the rope
and tolls

the Angelus bell;
his smooth hands
allow
the rough rope

to rub against
his skin,
rough on smooth.
I flushed the latrines

of the abbey,
having cleaned
with a stiff brush;
I recall her

mouthing my fellow;
her dark eyes
closing
as a dying moon.

The old French monk
scythes the tall grass,
his cutting swoop wide,
a studied look,

a prayer moaned
inside.

Nothing special about the day,
Except when you sat
At that table in some street café,
And saw a young woman
Remove a rosy red apple
From her bag and brush it
Slowly against her dress
As if wishing to conjure up
A memory of some previous night.

You sat unnoticed, at least
By her, and watched her lift
The apple to her lips
And close her eyes.

The apple lingered
Held by her hand, barely
Inches from that soft
Red skin (maybe she was
Thinking of him, who made
Her the night before)
And the lips parting slightly,
Almost whispering, the tongue,
Like some pink snake, brushed
Along the lower flesh, the scent
Of apple touched her sense
Of smell like tickled ***.

You smiled to yourself,
Not her, as she opened her eyes
And took a bite and ate sedately.

(You’d not seen
That posh dame lately,
The one who stayed
And bruised your soul).

Maybe she was thinking
Of her night of love as she
Seduced each mouthful of juice
And joy and swallowed slow
And breathed the midday air.

Then she had gone,
Moved on with apple
And her memories and you
Left behind with those images
Of her and the apple
Captured in your memory,
An art form in your fertile mind.

Miriam finds
that standing
on two bricks

over a pit
to ****
quite distasteful

the door
just about
bolts

voices of others
in the block
waiting their turn

unnerving
some voices foreign
shouting out

balancing
is the art
arms out stretched

but crouching
as if
about to take off

in imagined flight
the stench
of previous users

nauseating
her underwear
about her knees

her skirt
hitched up
no mention of this

in the holiday brochure
she muses
clutching her

own brought
toilet tissue
in one hand

the hot sun above
pushing down
attracting flies

she *****
them away
with her free hand

shoo shoo
she says
bouger sur

bouger sur
some one bellows
that French prat

she muses
get a move on
your ****** self

she bellows back
almost
unbalancing

her hold
she breathes out
then in

finishes
her task
performs the art

of cleansing
redresses
steps from brick

to edge
of dark grass
and unbolts

the door
and pushes through
the throng

feeling undone
sensing something
out of order

like a song
performed
wrong.

Yehudit likes
the Mahler 6th
Naaman has given her

but says he ought not
to spend
his money on her

he likes her
he thinks of her
all the time

even when he's away
from her
and she's at home

or abroad
like that first time
when she went Belgium  

and sent him
a postcard
of a Russian artist's

artwork
and he pinned it
to his bed board

along with the photo
of her she'd given him
and he likes

how her fair hair
flows as she walks
the mild wind

taking it
and her eyes
icy blue

like small pools
and he wants
to swim there

and sink in deeper
to find her soul
(sentimental fool

he later thought)
and she has the small
but most delicate

******* he's seen
and held them
and kissed them

that time
at her house
when her parents

were out
after she'd played
some Mozart minuet

on the piano
and he'd almost got
into her *******

when the parents' car
came into the drive
and they had

to sort out
their clothes
and he carried away

the softness
of the *******
I prefer his 2nd symphony

she says
but I'll like the 6th too
and she tucks it

under her arm
as she walks with him
along the country lane

the moon out
and the stars spread
about the sky

and the parents are in
and he is out
the evening cool

the hedgerows
becoming dark shadows
and he smelling

her scent
and nearby
an owl hoots

and a bird
takes flight
and he walking

next to her
in an August night.

And I shall love her still,
Said he, though time and
Its cruel sickle cut
Her down in size and

Take the brightness from
Her eyes, and turn her
Dark locks of hair to
Change them into that

Greyish fair, still shall
I love her and her
Being there. And still
I shall need her, said

He, though age passes
Hands of change upon
Her brow and wrinkles
Make like deepest sad

Furrows and time with
Its cruel fingers cause
Her sorrows, still shall
I care and love her

So and more, until
The moon go out and
The sea no longer
Come visit the shore

I see you
Yochana
thin as wire

shiny hair
narrow nose
looking back

towards me
eyes gazing
while Miss G

at the front
of the class
talks music

Beethoven
and deafness
how he had

his piano
cut down low
to feel sound

vibrations
on his skin
how you look

towards me
Yochana
vibrates on

my skin too
I mouth words
you're ****

towards you
your forehead
creases up

eyebrows rise
thinking out
what I've mouthed

I love it
how you are
you look back

at Miss G
and her talk
on music

Beethoven
and not me.

Elisheva pinned back
her hair, her thick lens
glasses enlarged her eyes,
she eyed her lips
fresh red lips ticked.

She pressed
her lips together
as she’d seen
her mother do
to spread the red.

She put away
her makeup case,
clipped up her bag.

Tuviya took in
her plump frame,
his eyes wandered over
the tight jeans and top.

She had ordered
latte and cake.
The counter girl,
thin and pale,
took money
and tilled away.  

He followed her
as she walked
to a table
in the corner
where another sat,
a female of older years,
plump but not fat.  

Elisheva mouthed words,
gestured with hands.

Tuviya studied her
with an artist’s eye,
took in fingers, nails,
gestures and moving lips.

Imagined her
in his studio,
the sharp light,
the battered sofa
holding her frame,
her hands in lap,
her naked *******
like piglets
in deep sleep.

A girl served Elisheva
her drink and cake,
then walked away.

Tuviya drank
his Americano,
his eyes moving over
Elisheva’s moving hands
and lips, the taking
of the latte and cake,
red lips opening
and closing
like fish on land.

He painted her
on his mind’s canvas,
set her down
with inner eye,
shaded in
the dull beyond,
filled in
with inward paints
her outer being
as he saw.

He could have
snapped her
with his Smartphone
camera, captured
in the state of now,
but it may have
spoilt it all,
he thought,
somehow.

She licked her fingers,
removing crumbs
and cream of cake,
mouthing each one.

He smiled,
imagined another game,
which she’d not play,
he thought,
least not here
and now in this cafe.

She talked on,
her fingers clean,
the dampness shining
in the overhead lights.

Tuviya closed up
the studio in his mind,
put away
the inner paints,
the canvas set aside,
she on the inner artwork,
on battered sofa,
legs spread wide.

She invited Joey
to her apartment
on the second floor

and as she opened the door
her dog came
barking along the hall

Shut up Bonaparte
she said
Go away

and the mutt walked back
with its tail
between its legs

to its basket
under the table
and she ushered Joey in

and closed the door behind her
and said
What would you like to drink?

tea coffee coke beer?
Coke will be fine
he said

and she told him
to go sit in the lounge
and once he sat down

he looked around the room
and on the small table
by the sofa where he sat

was a photograph of her
and her husband
taken on their wedding day

she dressed in white
and smiling
and he in a black suit

like a hit man
in a mobster movie
and she came in

with his coke
and set it on the table
by the sofa

and then went out again
swaying her behind
which made him smile

then she was back
with a tall glass
of white wine

and she set it down
on the table beside him
and sat down

and began talking
about the night
he had met her

and her husband
in the bar in town
and how she had invited

him over to meet her husband
and he had bought them
both a drink

and while her husband
talked to his friend
she had flirted with him

and made him laugh
and how after that
they’d all meet

on Friday evenings
in the same bar
and her husband

had invited him
to their place
to play chess

and he remembered
how he used to play chess
holding off letting

her husband win
so he could stay longer
and see her more often

and then she leaned over
to get her drink
and she put one hand

on his thigh
and reached over
for her wine

and he smelt her scent
and the brush of her hair
as she leaned over him

and having her glass
she leaned back
her hand still resting

on his thigh
and that look of mischief
burning in her eye.

I sat next to Anne
on the lawn
by the round white table
after breakfast

she was rubbing
the stump of her leg

I ate my toast

Sister Bridget
came over to us

what was all the fuss
last night?
she asked Anne
staring at her
with stern eyes

my leg hurt

your leg has been amputated
there is no leg
the nun said

it still hurts
even if it isn't
****** there
Anne said

language
I will not have
bad language
the nun said

I said ******
that's not a swear word
I should know
I’m an expert
in foul language
Anne said

you did not
have to make such a fuss
you woke up
the other children
in the dormitory
and Sister Elizabeth said
you used
foul language then

Anne shifted in the chair
rubbed her stump

I finished my toast
gazed at them both

it hurts here too
Anne said
raising her skirt
to reveal the stump

put your skirt down
the nun said firmly
Benedict doesn't want
to see your stump

I looked away
carrying the sight
of her stump with me

he doesn't mind
he's always gawking
at my leg
Anne said

enough of that
the nun said

that's what I tell him
but he doesn't listen
Anne said
poking me
in the ribs smiling

I don't
I said
looking at the nun
with my Mr Innocent features

I suggest young lady
you go to see Sister Agnes
about some painkillers
for the pain
the nun said
avoiding looking at me

I will
Anne said

and better manners my girl
the nun said
and walked off
across the lawn

silly old crab
Anne said
here give me your hand
and she shoved my hand
on her stump
and rubbed it
back and forth

I tried to pull
my hand away
but she held it there

don't fuss so Kid
take it as
the pleasure it is

I watched the nun stop
over by the slide
and talk to two other kids
sensing my hand moving
over warm skin

if the old bat saw this
Anne said
she'd call it
a ****** sin.

It was the boys’ bath night
and you had bathed
and were drying yourself

with the white towel
they had given you
when the bathroom door flew open

and Anne stood there one-legged
in her pink flowered nightdress
perching on her crutches like a hawk

her eyes bright and dark
a smile lingering on her lips
well ****** me

she said
what a sight
for a girl’s lovesick eyes

and she entered the bathroom
and pushed the door shut
behind her with her bottom

almost uncrutching herself
in the process
you pulled the towel

tight around you
and stared at her
it’s the boys’ bath night

you muttered
girls aren’t allowed in
while boys bath

she moved over
to the mirror
and gazed at herself

you’re right
she said
I’m not a boy

I’m a tight titted girl
and she laughed
and crutched herself

over towards you
making you flatten yourself
against the wall

gripping the towel with one hand
and holding her back
with the other

and she leaned down
and kiss the back of your hand
then looked you deep in the eyes

what have you got hidden
behind that towelling skirt then?  
she said

and you gripped the towel tighter
with both hands
and she menacingly moved

one hand cautiously towards the towel
her armpits gripping
the crutches tightly

as she moved
you shouldn’t be in here
you said

I’m not in there yet
she laughed and grabbed
the towel away with a force

that took her and the towel
toppling to the bathroom floor
where she lay

like an overturned beetle
you stood naked
your hands covering

what your father
called your toolbox
gazing down at her struggling

to get up
well don’t just stand there
like a prize parrot

help pick me up
she said
and so with one hand covering

you knelt down to help lift her up
but then she pulled you
down beside her

and laughed
and her laughter echoed
around the walls

but then she paused
and put a hand
over her mouth

hearing Sister Bridget’s
nearby footsteps
and noisy calls.

Here Kid take this what is it? whats it look like? its a prayer book thing yes so take it and hide it under your jumper why? just hide the **** thing so Benedict hides the  black book with red ends under his jumper and follows Anne into the grounds out of the French windows Anne crutches herself across the grass and makes towards the round white table and chairs and plonks herself down in a chair tossing her crutches aside Benedict sits down in the next chair looking back towards the nursing home do you think we were seen? seen doing what Kid? walking across the grass no doubt liberating Sister Dumb-arses prayer book no Anne says Benedict turns around and stares at her dont keep looking around Kid or the penguins will guess youve been up to no good me been up to no good it was your idea to take the prayer book but youve got it Kid not me but you said take it and you did well done Kid Anne says smiling she rubs her leg stump and pulls the blue skirt down further what do we do now? Benedict asks looking at Anne tempted to turn around and look behind him sit tight Kid sit tight but I cant hide the book under my jumper all day he says pass it under the table to me so he passes the prayerbook to Anne under the white table and she opens it in her lap he looks at her his stomach tightening guess whose it is? Anne asks he shrugs dont know its only Sister Bridgets how do you know? has it got her name in it? no they dont own personal property its just that it has this prayer card in it with an image of St Bridget on one side and a prayer on the other and on the top shes scrawled Sr Bridget in her bird-**** hand writing God shell go ape he says looking round at the nursing home what do we do? shush Kid what do want them to know weve got it? he stares at the building imagines the nun galloping across the lawn towards them her black robes billowing behind her like Batman turn round Kid youll look suspicious he looks round and stares at her sitting in the chair as if butter wouldnt melt in her mouth on a hot day where are you going to put it? he asks out of the sight of their eyes she says where though? she pulls up her blue skirt and tucks the black prayer book in her navy blue underwear and pulls down the skirt and brushes out the any signs you cant keep it there he says why not my knickers she says are they going to search me there? she says now just go get my wheelchair and  we can go visit the sea out the back gate he sighs and wanders back towards the home trudging across the lawn leaving Anne sitting in the chair like some royal queen on her throne she lifts up her skirt and adjusts the book more securely just as well I wore the passion killers Mum bought me she says to herself and lets down the skirt again and sits staring towards the home as she sits a few of the kids come out and make their way to the swings and slide they know her and avoid her like a plague a nun comes out too Anne stares at her its Sister Lucy a young one green as grass more ****** that the Blessed ****** herself Anne says under breath the nun walks towards Anne her hands inside her black habit how are we today Anne? the nun asks smiling my ****** leg aches Anne says o dear the nun says looking at Annes leg visible under the table have you seen Sister Paul about some pain killers? no not yet Anne says anyway its not this leg its the one not there my stump leg o I see Sister Luke says staring at the unseen stump beneath the blue skirt I could pray for your leg if you would like me to the nun says might help Anne says putting on her pious pose its hurts so much I feel like crying she allows tears to dribble out of her eyes(shes an expert of conjuring tears out of her eyes) o my dear child the nun says coming around the table and placing a hand around Annes shoulders Ill ask Sister Paul about some tablets the nun says thank you Anne whimpers feeling the prayer book move slightly as she moves in the chair she tries to adjust it with her hand to a more secure position Benedict comes across the lawn pushing the wheelchair he sees the nun and his eyes enlarge and he senses danger have they suspected Anne already about the missing prayer book? he wheels the chair behind Anne the nun looks at him arent you a good boy she says yes hes my best friend Anne says smiling through the glassy eyes the nun smiles well I best get back Ill see Sister Paul about those pills the nun says and walks off towards the home that was close Benedict say she didnt mention the prayer book Anne says she just came about me and the ****** leg and offering prayers o I see he says gazing at the stump area thinking about the stump of her leg hes seen many times are you going gawk at my stump all day or are you going to help get in the ****** wheelchair? o right yes he says and helps her get from the chair and into the wheelchair holding it steady at the back make sure the prayer book doesnt slip out of my knickers Kid she says as she rises from the chair and plonks into the wheelchair she moves the book to a more comfortable position and pulls her skirt down pass her knee just as they were about to move away Sister Bridget comes across the lawn towards them like a rhino on heat hang on Kid here comes the penguin wait wait the nun says raising a hand Benedict pauses pushing the wheelchair and stares at the approaching nun keep cool Kid Anne says under her breath act innocent as the Pope at a nudist colony Benedict feels himself perspire the nun stands in front of Anne in the wheelchair a prayer book has gone missing the nun says gazing at Anne has it? Anne says in an innocent tone yes it was taken from the Common Room shall we help look for it? Anne asks have you seen it? the nun asks no not that I know of whats it look like? Anne asks as if butter wouldnt melt a prayer book is what it looks like the nun says eyeing Anne with her suspicious eyes black cover with red ends no cant say I have Anne says Benedict looks away at the trees behind of them at the avenue between them and you Benedict have you seen it? the nun asks staring at him her eyes over him like maggots he shudders no sister not seen it at all he hates lying to  a nun he feels as if she looks into his soul and at the minor sins lurking there like naughty children then the nun looks down in Annes lap gazes at the outline of the leg stump not hiding it are we? the nun says hiding what? Anne says my stump? no I tried hiding it but its always there each morning I wake up the nun screws up her eyes and peers at them both no I mean the book where is it? no idea Anne says Benedict looks down at Annes lap where have you hidden it? the nun says havent seen it Anne says one of the children says she saw you take it the nun says me? Anne says you cant take the word of child I believe what the child tells me Benedict looks at the outline of the leg stump the child says you have it about your person she saw you from the upper bedroom window the nun says sternly must be mistaken must have seen me rub my stump they always watch me rubbing it so nosey the nun sighs and gazes at Annes lap and at the stumps outline show me your leg stump? the nun says hands on her hips Anne pulls up her skirt to reveal the stump Benedict looks too wondering if the book outline could be seen under the knickers the nun looks away where have you put it? put what? the book the prayer book the nun says I havent seen it Anne says as innocent as she can muster innocence lies will get you to Hell the nun says and walks off across the grass like a bad tempered bear what now? Benedict says Anne takes the book out of her knickers and hands it to him warm and scented what do I do with it? he asks shove it on that other chair under the table and were off to the beach so he puts the book under the table and pushes Anne off in the chair off out of reach.

Anne hand pushed
her wheelchair
along the avenue of trees

towards the back gate
that led to the beach
and she saw you

standing by the gate
peering over at the sea
Hey skinny kid

push me out
towards the beach
and you turned round

and got behind her
and pushed her
out of the gate

and onto the edge
where the beach began
and she sat there

staring out
at the incoming tide
and you stood behind her

your hands on the handles
I used to swim quite well once
she said suddenly

Until I lost
my ******* leg
and she swore on

the words frightening
nearby gulls
and you said

You’ll swim again one day
when you feel up to it
I’m sure people swim

with one leg
and she turned round
and stared at you

and said
Who made you
the expert?

You know jackshit
and she turned away
and spat on the sand

beside the wheelchair
and you looked at the way
her dark hair

was caught by the wind
off the beach
and her white blouse

flapped like a small sail
and you leaned over
her shoulder

and kissed her cheek
and she giggled
and said

Get off you sad sod
and push me closer
to the sea

and you heaved her
forward over the sand
the wheels slowly sinking

as you went
until you came to a stopped
a stones throw

from the incoming tide
and she held out
her hand like King Canute

and bellowed
Hold back
you ****** in sea

and you laughed
and after a few moments cursing
so did she.

Anne crutches herself onto the green lawn of the nursing home and sits at one of the metal white painted tables and in one of the white metal chairs and drops her crutches beside her Benedict whom she called Skinny Kid follows her and sits at the same table looking at her his hazel eyes focusing on her on her black straight hair and dark eyes other children are playing on the swings and slide or sitting at other tables a distance away don't want none of those other sick kids here Kid Anne says they're sneaks and tell tales and moaning Minnies and such but you Kid you're all right you’re possibly the only one here I can tolerate and O those pesky nuns ****** penguins walking about poking their noses into things saying have you had a motion today? have you passed water? yes I said to Sister Agnes I did a dance on one leg as a motion and I passed the running water tap on my way to breakfast what did she say​?Benedict asks she said manners Anne we must have manners and asked me again and I said both and plenty of them and she went off in a huff her black habit gown flapping behind her like some ****** bat one of the kids comes to the table and says can I sit here? of course you can sit you've an **** on you but no you may not Anne says shooing the girl away like she was a dog the girl went off looking back pulling a face how's your leg? Benedict asks missing and aching and driving me to distraction Anne says the ****** stump throbs and gets hot and it makes me a miserable sod can I see it Benedict asks what its like? you're a one aren't you always after seeing my stump later maybe not here with the nosey penguins gawking at everything we do a nun walks down to the table her eyes like black dots behind her wire spectacles ah Anne have you been upsetting the other children again? are you asking me or telling me? Anne says rubbing her leg eyeing Benedict Lina says you swore at her and told her to sit elsewhere the nun stares at Anne then at Benedict well? what happened the nun asks I never swear Sister I never swear I just said she could sit elsewhere be better for her I may have an illness she may catch and may bring her out in yellow spots the nun doesn't smile or move a muscle in her face her dark eyes move over Anne then Benedict well Benedict were you here? what happened and I want the truth or you'll not go to Heaven if you lie the nun says eyeing the boy scarily she didn't swear the boy says just said to go elsewhere the nun stares at Anne do not be horrible to other children they've as much right to sit here as you do now behave or I’ll report you to Sister Paul and then you'll know it the nun says and walks off like a rook unable to fly Anne farts and smiles sums her up that she says Benedict nods and looks at the table want to go to the beach? I can push you in the wheelchair? how old are you Kid? she asks ten nearly eleven he says she muses looks at him do you know how old I am? she asks eyeing him his quiff of hair the hazel eyes the skinny frame no idea Benedict says I’m twelve Kid although my mother says I’m big for my age got ******* and such Benedict looks past her head at the avenue of tree behind and the path to the beach got ***** hair too she adds to see if he'll blush what's that? he asks what’s what? Anne says ***** hair? he says that'd be telling wouldn't it spoil the surprise although you could always ask the good sisters and say dear Sister Paul what's this ***** hair stuff? she laughs to herself well Kid go get the wheel chair and off we go to the beach the boy smiles and gets up and walks quickly towards the nursing home Anne watches him go she winces and rubs her stump with her hands backwards and forwards she watches the other kids at play at the nuns walking here and there then Benedict comes across the grass pushing the wheelchair at a fair speed she smiles as he comes up to the table here we are one wheelchair he says slightly out of breath right bring it round here Kid and so he pushes the wheelchair next to her and manages to get herself in comfortably and rocks about until she's settled right then Kid did anyone stop you? yes he says Sister Agnes asked me where I was going with the wheelchair and I said you had need of it and she pulled a face then walked off with a face like a pinched behind Benedict says good on you Kid now let's' to the beach and away from the peasants and sickly she says so Benedict gets behind the wheelchair and pushes away from the table his arms outstretched his hands gripping the handles and off they go over the grass and onto the pebbly path between the trees and the sound of birdsong and the smell of the sea filling their noses and out the back gate and onto the path along by the sea the sounds of sea rush and waves and gull cries and people calling out and laughter and kids calling and crying and she says O this it Kid this is ******* living breathe in that air breathe in deep and Benedict breathes in deeply as he pushes her along the path smooth and easier and his thin legs pushing along the pathway and as he pushes he gazes down at her black haired head then at the red dress with the one leg sticking out the stump not visible but only the outline of it being there and the smell of the sea and salt in the air.

I stood in line
to be weighed
in the bathroom
of the nursing home

Anne crutched herself
behind me
you haven't
got a chance in hell

of winning
that chocolate bar Kid
she said
I've seen more meat

on a butcher's pencil
stuck behind his ear
might win
I said

might fly
she said  
the kid in front of me
got on

the green metal scales
and the nun
moved the weight
along the top

not you Malcolm
she said
the kid got off sulkily
I got on the scales

and the nun
moved the weight
I looked at her
black and white

headdress
her pinched features
not you Benny
she said

I got off
and walked away
Anne awkwardly
got on the scales

holding herself
on her one leg
the stump
of the other

hanging there
best so far Anne
the nun said
told you Kid

you didn't
have a chance
guess not
I said

as she crutched herself
along side of me
not to worry
if I get the choco bar

I’ll give you
a quarter for being
a good friend
no other

in this *******
gets a look in
we went along
to our rooms

come in Kid
she said
I hesitated
come in

I want to
ask you something
I stood swaying
uncertain

what if
one of the nuns
comes along?  
what if I don't give you

quarter of the choc bar?
she said
I followed her in
to the girls dorm

no one else
was there
just she and me
she closed the door

with her backside
right Kid
I want you
to do me

a favour
favour?
I said
sensing uncertainty

hit my gut
yes I want you
to sneak along
to the kitchen tonight

and liberate
some biscuits
liberate?
I said

biscuits?
yes you know
what biscuits are
don't you

those hard things
with cream in the middle
or chocolate
on one side

I know what biscuits are
I said
but what do you mean
liberate?

take some
from the big tin
they have
on the shelf

in larder
take?
I said
you mean steal?

steal
take
liberate
whatever word

you want
to use Kid
what if I get caught?
don't get caught

but what if I do?
Anne sighed
sat on the edge
of her bed

I thought you
were someone
I could rely on Kid
not some cowardly custard

yellow belly
I looked
at her leg stump
sticking out

the other leg
reached to the floor
if you're really good
I’ll let you touch

my stump
she said
no need
I said

I'll try tonight
sneak down
after lights out
good Kid

she said
she took my right hand
and lay it
on the stump

and held it there
it felt warm
and soft
she let my hand go

good huh?
wish the rest
was there
she said

off you go
and don't get caught
I nodded
and backed out

of the room
seeing her cover
the stump
with her dress

and smile
see you
I said
you bet

she said
I walked away
thinking
of the big steal

of biscuits
unthought through
by my 10 year old brain
as yet.

Anne put her crutches
by the table
on the lawn
and sat next to me

how's it going Kid?
ok
I said
what's for breakfast?

porridge or cereal
or toast
I said
no egg and bacon

and sausages?
she said
no
I said

**** me
she said
who eats toast
or porridge

or  cereals?
pass me a glass
and pour me
some of that

orange muck
I poured her
a glass of orange juice
and put it

by her hand
she sipped it
I've tasted better
she said

I want you
to push me
down to the beach
later Kid

can't stick
being stuck
with these other kids
they drive me

up the wall
with their
goody-two-shoes
nonsense with the nuns

especially Sister Paul
the stuck up *****
I looked back
towards the nursing home

other kids
were sitting about
other tables
and here and there

a nun was attending
to them
got any more wine gums
from your mother?

she asked me
no they've gone
Sister Bridget took them
to share

amongst the others
****** communist
she said
I looked at her

sitting in the chair
her one leg visible
the stump
of the other leg

hidden beneath
her blue dress
the dress had little
anchors and boats

on it
had your look Kid?
she said
you're always trying

to look at my stump
aren't you?
I can't help it
my eyes are drawn

to the missing leg
I said
she lifted her dress
and showed

the stump of leg
have a good look Kid
I looked at the stump
then looked away

towards the windows
of the nursing home
when do you want
to go to the beach?

I asked
as soon as I’ve had breakfast
she said
she pulled down

her dress to cover her stump
and sipped the juice
the red ribbon
in her dark

straight hair
had come loose.

She saw the kids on the slide,
each with their own
burden to bear:
burn scars,

post operative
patients,
cancer victims
counting the last days

on their thin fingers,
a kid with an eye gone,
lid sewn.  
And she, Anne,

amputee, bad
tempered *****,
12 year old,
big bosomed,

fine of remaining limb,
scanning the rest,
seated
in the wheel chair,

Skinny Kid behind,
hands on the handles,
warm breath
on her neck.

She was bored,
sun too bright,
kids too noisy,
nurse ****-arsing

near by,
taking temperatures,
changing wound
bandages, crouched

to see eye to eye,
thighs showing
stocking tops.
Hey, Kid,

she said,
get a peek at that,
indicating the thighs
and stocking tops

on view.
The Kid, thin arms
and legs, short hair,
11 year old, stared,

took in stocking legs,
black, warming,
looked away.
Don't get to see

that every day,
Kid, unless
you're their old man
or fond lover,

Anne said,
grinning ear to ear.
Skinny Kid,
stood, loyal,

whispered into
her neck,
want me to push you
to the beach?

sure, Kid,
get me
from these wounded ones,
these dying doomed,

let me smell
the salt and sea,
let me hear
the sea's song.

So the Kid, pushed
the chair, arms
out stretched,
over lawn,

down path,
she singing,
rude lyrics,  
her one remaining leg

rocking
to the chairs' move,
the stump, showing
where her skirt ended,

shook and rocked.  
Out the back gate,
onto the path
by the beach,

out of the nurse's sight,
or sound of voice's reach.
She thinking
of the Kid's

loyal touch,
his heaving her
from chair to bed,
the night before,

his thin arms
clutching tight
in case she fell,
the warm bed

embracing,
holding her down,
he standing there,
gazing at her

bare stump
with that innocent
stare.
He thinking,

as he pushed along,
how red
her stump was
the night before,

how the thigh
of her other leg
was white as snow
compared,

going red
as he stared.

Benny wheels
Anne’s chair
up the path

between trees
the sun bright
overhead

other kids
on the lawn
by the home

riding swings
or the slide
move on Kid

Anne says
out the gate
on the beach

Benny grips
the handles
pushes hard

through the gate
on the path
to the beach

have the nuns
seen us yet?
Anne asks

don't think so
Benny says
Sister Luke's

not looking
she's as blind
as a bat

couldn't find
her backside
with both hands

Anne says
the tide's out
Benny says

this is it
Skinny Kid
this is life

he watches
her one leg
sticking out

from her dress
her leg stump
out of sight

push me there
Anne points
to the sand

near the edge
want to smell
the sea's scent

hear the sound
of the waves
on the shore

he pushes on
over sand
deep ridges

as he goes
looking down
at her dress

the stump shows.

Anne rubs
her leg stump
sometimes it's

very hot
and itches
other times

it throbs hard
with the pain
that's how it

is again
so she rubs
the leg stump

and looks at
other kids
on the lawn

of the home
for the sick
some playing

on the swings
or the slide
some sitting

at tables
playing games
on game boards

but she's stuck
sitting there
in a chair

with one leg
and one stump
itching bare

then a nun
who's nursing
says to her

cover up
your leg stump
and don't rub

or you will
make it sore
but Anne

being she
says up yours
lifts her skirt

and rubs her
stump some more.

Anne crutched her way
over the grass
from the nursing home
to the white seats on the lawn
and sat down
in one of the chairs
and threw her crutches
to the ground beside her

I sat in a chair
next to her
she had on a blue skirt
and white blouse
her one leg stuck out
from the end
of her skirt

the other kids played
on the swings and slide
or walked around
avoiding being
near Anne

I wonder
if the nuns have periods?
She said suddenly

I don't know
I said

might explain
their crabbiness some days
she said

I nodded my head
unsure of the topic

periods of what?
I asked

she looked at me
sternly for a moment
you don't know?

I shook my head
gazing at her

it's *******
in real terms
she said

none the wiser
I looked at her
hair dark
and almost shiny
where she’d
brushed it so much

do you know that?

no not heard of it
I said

she sighed
and looked at me deeply

do your parents tell
you nothing?

not about
******* anyway
I said
my old man told me
about the Plague of London
in 1665
and rats and stuff

**** the Plague of 1665
she said
this is real stuff
it may come handy
one day to know

I doubted it
but said nothing
I looked back
at the nursing home
for rescue

do you know anything
about the female cycle?
She said

my friend's sister's cycle
didn't have a cross bar
I said
remembering Jim's sister
and the bicycle
I sometimes rode

no no Kid
not that kind of cycle
her body cycle

I noticed as she moved
on the chair
her leg stump
became visible  

when a female
gets to a certain age
her body gets prepared
to put an egg
in a place in her body
ready to be fertilized
ok?

I saw the stump clearly
it looked like the end
of a plump elbow

Kid do you hear
what I am saying?

Yes
I said

good
now if the egg
doesn't get fertilized
by a certain time
her body gets rid of it
in a cycle
and she bleeds
the whole package out
right?

It didn’t sound too good
but I nodded
what kind of egg?
I asked

what do you mean
what kind of egg?
A ****** human egg
what do you think
a ****** hens' egg?
She sighed deeply

and I wondered where
she bought her one shoe

how old are you Kid?

10 nearly 11 years old
I replied
studying her black shoe  
and wondering
what she did
with the other shoe

what's fertilization?
I asked
looking up at her
sitting in the chair
her eyes focused on me

go ask the nuns
they'll know
she said snappily

ok
I said
I will

she reached for her crutches  
and said
right Kid
let's go to the beach
out of the eyes
of the *******
and their reach

and so I walked
beside her
out the back gate
and onto the path
that led
to the sand and sea
blue skies
white clouds
seagulls
and Anne and me.

See this leg
that's not there?
Anne asks

Skinny Kid
lifting up
her red skirt

to show him
the leg stump
so he stares

at the leg's
fleshy stump
I see it

or I don't
he replies
and they sit

eyes to eyes
well it hurts
she tells him

even though
it's not there
beyond that

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

dark of eyes
himself there
reflected

two of him
looking back
but none of

the penguins
-nursing nuns
in habits

black and white-
believe me
when I say

my leg hurts
or they say
Anne it's

in your head
not your leg
your leg's gone

nothing's wrong
do you Kid
believe me?

sure I do
the Kid says
what you say

I believe
Anne plants
a wet kiss

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

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

her thin hand
in the space
below the

fleshy stump
it hurts here
she tells him

or somewhere
there abouts.

Her parents
seldom came
despite her

loss of leg
but Anne
didn't care

or so said
too busy
far away

to visit
her at the
nursing home

so she read
between lines
of letters

that they sent
now and then
when the leg

is better
and fresh healed
you can roam

your new home
or green field
the letter

last sent said
but Anne
didn't cry

or reply
as she was
meant to do

she just said
in her head
up you too.

Sister Bernadette
came rushing
across the grass
to where Anne

was screaming
about the pain
in her amputated leg
sitting next to you

by the small white table
where does it hurt?
Sister Bernadette asked
in the leg

Anne screamed
but the leg’s been amputated
the sister said
lifting the hem

of Anne’s skirt
showing space
where once a leg
had been

you turned
your head away
Malcolm was swinging
on the swing

his hands gripping
the steel chains
on either side
as he rode his ride

I know the ******* leg’s gone
Anne screamed
but it still hurts
language

in front of the children
Sister Bernadette said
I’ll speak to Matron
and see what she says

and off the sister went
leaving Anne following her
with her deep eyes
you looked back at Anne

taking in her dark hair
plaited into two plaits
I think they call it
a phantom leg

you said
what is?
Anne said
turning and staring at you

a limb amputated
but still causing pain
you said
what you a doctor now Skinny Kid?

no
you said
just saying what I read
some place

forget it
she said
hand me my crutches
you handed her her crutches

and she stood up
and crutched herself away
towards the far end
of the garden

come on Skinny Kid
she said
let’s go catch the sea
coming in or going out

and breathe some salt air
ok
you said
running to catch her up

her one leg
swinging forward
a lonesome traveller
across the well mown lawn

her naked thigh and calf
showing as the skirt rose
in motion
and filling the air

like a gull cry
her bellowing laugh.

Anne was sitting along
the avenue of trees
in her wheelchair

the other kids
were on the lawn
playing on the slide
or swings or sitting
on chairs around
white tables

I approached her
keeping to the gravel path
studying her one leg
emerging from her blue dress
her dark hair
tied back tight

where have you been Kid?
she asked

been helping Sister Bridget
with the breakfast things
I said

come here Kid
she said

I stood next
to her wheelchair
do you want me to push
you along the beach?
I asked

later maybe
she said

I looked back
at the nursing home

hey Kid
have you ever seen
a *****?

I looked back at her
no don't think so
I said
is it a fruit?
sounds like a fruit

she smiled
no not a fruit

is it some kind
of animal?
I asked
looking to where
her stump's outline
showed on her dress

she looked at me
her eyes searching me
no not an animal
she said

I looked at her
brown sandal
her toes showing
on the one foot

I can show you one
if you like
Anne said

have you one to show?

she looked at me
sure I have
maybe later
she said
I 'll show you

I nodded wondering
what this thing could be

how about the beach now Kid?
she asked

ok
I said
and began to push
her wheelchair
out the back gate
looking at her black hair
tied in a bun
at the back

is it an ornament
of some kind?
I asked

wait and see Kid
she said
don't worry
your 11 year old head

I pushed her
along the path
by the beach
the sea was far out
the sky a soft blue

don't worry Kid
she said
let me
a 12 year old girl
show you.

Anny Horowitz doesn’t run down
the shopping aisles
as your grandchildren do,
she holds the trolley,

steadying it with her hand,
your ghostly friend,
your little Jew.
None sees her form,

her bright blue eyes,
her blonde hair
tied with ribbon,
her rosy complexion.

She ghostly moves,
amazed by the Aladdin’s cave
of goods upon the shelves,
the packets and boxes,

the loud advertisements
hanging from the air
here and there,
everywhere you

and she stare.
Neither Strasbourg
nor Bordeaux
nor Tours

nor Auschwitz
was like this,
no overpowering display
of commodities on show

of this she tells you
and to a degree you know,
and what was on show
at Auschwitz is still there

in memories or records
or photographs
with staring faces
and deep set eyes.  

Anny waits and watches
as the conveyor belt
moves the goods
to the woman

at the till
who pushes buttons
or scans bar codes
and pushes by

to the paid for end
and your son
and grandchildren
pack all away.

Anny gazes on the process,
then at you, smiles,
your little friend,
your ghostly Jew.

Anny Horowitz
pressed her nose
against the glass
window pane

of Nero’s coffee bar
where you sat drinking
coke in ice in a glass
her ghostly

blue eyes
peered at you
a smile lingered
her small hands

were palm flat
on the pane
so that her lifeline
and headline were visible

where she pressed
you beckoned
with a nod
of your head

for her to come in
and she came in
and sat in the seat
beside you

her phantom
1940s clothes
seemed neat and clean
and her blonde hair

was ribboned
and looked fresh washed
Anny’s hand touched
the back of your chair

her eyes searched
about her
the fingers
of her other hand

toyed
with an empty glass
on the small
round table

she talked
in her soft voice
and asked about
the drink in the glass

and you told her
and she smiled
and was fascinated
by the bubbles rising

around the ice cubes
a couple came in
and a took a seat nearby
he went off

to order drinks
and she sat
and looked at you
then away again

not seeing Anny
sitting there
Mozart music
playing

in the background
Anny sat listening
her head
swaying slowly

to the music
she said
she remembered
the music

her feet
in black shoes
swung back and forth
under the chair  

she said
at Auschwitz
they played music
but it made her sad

to remember
you took out
your mobile phone
and spoke into it

did they play Wagner
at Auschwitz?
you asked
she said she thought so

the woman nearby
looked at you
wondering who
you were talking to

then looked away
what is that?
Anny asked
my mobile phone

you said
phone?
she said
it’s like the telephones

in telephone boxes
years ago
but smaller
and you can go around

with them
in your hand
Anny nodded
but the woman frowned

giving you a stare
you sipped your coke
nice and cold
refreshing

against heat
coming through
the coffee bar window
Anny gazed

at the woman
then put out
her hand
and touched yours

and it was cool
and soft like silk
as if a breeze
had blown

against your skin
you gazed
at her ribboned hair
her blue eyes

then she faded
and was gone
just the nosey woman
giving you a stare

not knowing
your little Jewish friend
had come and gone
and was no longer there.

Lydia is quiet
going down the *****
by Arrol House
and onto

Rockingham Street
Benedict says nothing
he thinks it best
to let her brood

until she’s ready
to speak
he's seen it
in the films before

where the female
opposite the cowboy
has her moods
or quiet times

and the cowboy
lets her get on with it
while he rides off
into the sunset

to fight the bad guys
or Injuns
or have a shot
of Red Eye

in the bar in the town
watching the dancers
on the makeshift stage
he gives Lydia

a side on gaze
her straight hair
seems unbrushed
her dress is creased

and the cardigan
has a hole
in the elbow
they walk up

towards Draper Road
by the blocks of flats
he says
(hating silence)

the parents
were rowing last night
something to do
with money

or the lack of it
from what
I could gather
through the bedroom door

lying in the dark
seeing the thin line
of light
from the other room

the old man hates
being short
needs dosh
to get

his best suits
and brown shoes
saw something odd
last night

Lydia says suddenly
looking at Benedict
odd? what was odd?
he asks

studying
her thin hands
the nails chewed
my big sister

and her man friend
your sister's always odd
says Benedict
no

more odd
she made me sleep
in the tiny cot bed
which I haven't done

for years as its
too small for me really
but anyway
she made me sleep there

so she and her man friend
could sleep there
he's been turned out
of his digs

as he calls them
and Mum didn't like
the idea but Dad
in his usual drunken state

said O let him stay
a few days
until he gets himself
a place

so there am I
stuck in the cot bed
feet dangling
over the ends

just about room for me
except my backside
gets cold
when I turn over

nothing worse
Benedict says
than a cold backside
well then

Lydia says
after the lights were out
and she thought
I was asleep

I heard this noise
like squashy sound
and I lay there
with my eyes open

looking
at the dark shapes
and hearing
these odd sounds

and the giggles
and snorts and such
Benedict gazes at her
side on

her thin lips
were opening
and closing
like the goldfish

he had which fell
into the sink
out of the fish bowl
and its tiny mouth

was closing
and opening
upon the wet
white surface

then the bed springs
were going gong gong
then silence
as if they were dead

odd
Lydia says
staring
straight ahead

and I never got
to sleep in the end
for ages
what with them

and the cold
on my backside
and the trains
going over

the railway bridge
and the shunting
of coal wagons
so you're tired

Benedict says
that’s why you
were quiet just now
thought I'd done

something wrong
when I first met you
outside your flat
and you came out

with a face
suppose so
she says
and they walk along

Draper Road
to the Penny shop
where he treats her
to a penny pop drink

and 4
fruit salad sweets
and they stand
by the penny

ball game machine
on the wall
and watch some kid
press the buttons

and the ball
goes around
and around
until it disappears

in a slot
and Lydia thinks
to herself
sipping her drink

grown ups
are an odd lot.

We lean on the balcony
looking down
on the Square;
it's a summer evening,
light still,
kids playing
by the pram sheds,
on up and down the *****
on their scooters or bikes.

Fay smells of flowers;
her fair hair let loose
about her slim shoulders;
I sniff her secretly.

My father's away,
she says,
he'll be back
on Saturday.

Where's he gone?

Business in Scotland;
he said I was to learn
Chapter six
of St John's Gospel.

Why?

Just his way
of making sure
I don't waste too much
time on earthly things.

Will you learn it?

I will have to;
he'll test me
when he gets back
and if I haven't
there will be trouble,
he said.

I see two kids fighting
over by the pram sheds;
a crowd gathers.

Don't your parents
make you read the Bible?

No, my old man
wouldn't know
the first thing
about the Bible;
he thinks it's all
a load of tosh,
but my mother says
we should go to church
and sometimes we do,
especially
the Bible-thumpers
by the iron bridge
who take poor kids
to the beach
in the summer
and they have feast night
with bread
and cakes and such.

Fay looks at me;
her eyes have
a sadness about them
like a puppy
left out
in the rain.

The nuns say
that those who
do not believe
will go to Hell.

Be quite
a packed place, then.

I believe,
but I want you
to believe, too,
she says.

Believe what?

In Jesus and God.

I watch a tall kid
ride his bike
by a couple
and shout
KAZOO!
as he passes them by.

I do believe.

You do?

Sure why not?

She smiles.

I would kiss
Miss A's backside
for a smile like that,
but I don't tell Fay;
I just look
at the brightness
of her eyes
where stars
are born
and an old star dies.

She would have bathed
a hundred times
to have washed him out.

Now she dries
her red hair
with a white towel
sitting on the edge
of the white bath.

She will never
get used to it,
never quite come
to accept the duties
of a *****,
not take it
as a fact of her life,
****** more often
than any wife.

But he she loathes,
his way,
his demands,
that touch of his,
the earthly smell
and tone of voice.

She's washed
and washed her hair,
and rinsed it through,
to be rid of him,
but still he's there
in her red long hair.

He's just another punter,
the Mistress says,
just another gentleman
to please and have his way,
no different than the others,
so just lay there,
shut your eyes and obey.

She never thought
she'd end up a *****,
never thought she'd end
up this way,
being the plaything
of men,
just a relief machine,
a good lay.

She wonders,
drying her long red hair,
what her parents would say,
seeing her here,
doing what she does,
things she has to perform,
sometimes quite *****,
often beyond the norm.

She's dry now,
the hair brushed
and her body clean,
time to prepare,
tie back her hair,
simple cloth to cover
what'll soon be bare,
lying there.

She sighs,
who'd be a *****?
she says,
knock knock,
another one's come,
another at the door.

We're on the grass
around Arrol House
and I have my blue
painted metal crossbow

in my hand
with the two arrows
that came in the pack
and Ingrid says

what are you going
to fire at?
if I had an apple
I could do

the William Tell trick
what's that?
she asks
well he put an apple

on his son's head
and fires the apple
off with one
single arrow

and whose head
would you fire
the apple off of?
she asks

I look at her
and smile
no not me
she says

looking fearful
of course not
I say
just joking

I'd not do that
to anyone
I'm a lousy shot
she smiles uneasy

I mean it I say
so what are you
going to shoot at?
she asks

I pull out
a small
cardboard target
out of the back pocket

of my jeans
at this
I say
and try and hit

the bulls-eye
she takes the target
and says
where do I put it?

put it against
the bomb shelter wall
and up on
the first ledge

I say
she walks over
to the bomb shelter wall
and puts it

on the ledge
by standing on tiptoe
that's it
I say

just right
she moves away
and stands beside me
fingers held together

and watches
as I put an arrow
onto the crossbow
and set

the crossbow
ready to fire
and aim
at the target

with one eye closed
and set the arrow off
and it misses
the bulls-eye

by a mere fraction
you missed the bulls-eye
Ingrid says
I smile

told you
I was a lousy shot
I say
just as well

I didn't have
an apple
on my head
she says

or I'd be dead  
I wouldn't do that
to you
no matter what

I say
and she gets
the arrow
just a part

of another
childhood day.

Elaine ate her sandwiches
in the lunch room
sitting on a stool
eyes lowered

trying not to listen
to others
in the room
not wanting

to draw attention
to herself
sitting there
the bread

was dried out
the luncheon meat
yucky and tasteless
the window looked out

on the playing field
sun was out
sky silky blue
she ate as much

as she wanted
and got off the stool
packed
her lunch box away

and left the room
and walked down
the passageway
and out onto the field

where she waited
by the fence
her satchel
over her shoulder

what you waiting for Frumpy?
a girl said
passing her by
she didn't reply

she looked
at the field
to see if the boy
named John

was out there
somewhere
she tightened her grip
on the satchel strap

boys passed by
a group of girls giggling
she felt self conscious
looked at her shoes

her laces
the way she tied them
I’m a bit late
John said

but here now
she looked up
and he was there
with his quiff of hair

and hazel eyes
been waiting long?
he said
no not long

she said
just come out
he nodded
and looked around him

she looked away
felt tense
felt her body shake
how about a walk?

he said
she moved with him
as he walked
from the fence

he spoke
of the lessons
of the morning
she listened

but didn't listen
the words seemed
odd to her floating
about her

she gazed at his hand
beside her
the fingers
the ink stains

on the tips
still he spoke on
and she moved her hand
close to his

so that
they almost brushed
against each other
her hand just inches away

he talked almost
non stop
his words spilling out
his eyes wide open

she felt strange
felt her stomach tighten
her legs shaky  
can we sit for a while?

she said
yes yes
he  said
and they sat

on the grass
near the upper fence
are you all right?
he asked

she nodded
folding her legs
under her
pulling her green skirt

over her knees
he went on
about the Jay he'd seen
about where it nested

and all she could think of
was his neck showing
where buttons were undone
the naked skin

his Adam's apple
rising and falling
and nearby in the woods
a bird was calling.

Miss Pinkie (she dropped
the title Mrs from
her name ages ago)
lay on the sofa

and said
take me if you want
spank me if you will
and he stood

looking at her
a glass of scotch
in his hand
the music of Mahler’s

symphony number 4
coming through the door
from an outer room
she lay **** naked

her amble flesh
spread out
her hands resting
on her *******

who’s the orchestra
on the Mahler piece?
he asked
can’t remember

she said shifting slightly
her blue eyes searching him
aren’t you going to oblige?
she said

he drank back
the scotch
and put the glass down
on the small coffee table

can I sit first?
sure
she said and sat up
and moved over

to allow him room
beside her
he gazed at her
at her dyed blonde hair

at her eyes deep
like oceans of blueness
knowing she had
19 years upward on him

and all she wanted
was a few hours
of talk and laughter
and a leisurely *****

one of the old guys
died at the home today
he said
out of the blue

oh which one?
she asked
the one who sat
in his room each day

and looked out
the window
and said next to nothing
oh him

she said
think he was
broken hearted
she added

he took in
the beauty spot
on her cheek
like Marilyn used

to have years ago
so how about it?
she asked
are you ready for it?

the Mahler piece softened
some moving movement
well?
she said placing

a hand on his thigh
maybe you could put
on Brahms for a change
he said

sensing her hands
move upwards
maybe
she said softly

if you’re a good boy
the lights were low
the lights from the street
added a different shade

of glow
ok
he said
and her hands moved

and did their work
and so did his
bit by bit
time over time

the music playing on
in the background
that and flesh slapping
and the sofa squeaking

was the symphony
of a ****** sound.

The nights
seem longer now,
darker, depressing,
the moon
a laughing clown,
getting me down.

The days seem
less brighter now,
the hours passing
like ghostly scares,
minute upon minute
clocking up a speed,
the joy of being
in need of watering
or a newer feed.

Certain days
of the week
come and haunt
and replay
the dark hours
and ugly pain,
the losing of you,
my son,
all over again.

I see your face
as it was
those last days,
it come to me
in dreams or
in the still hours
between this or that,
comes vivid
yours eyes,
my stoic son,
that liquid blue,
darker seeming,
a different seeing,
another you.

Anne rubbed the stump
of her amputated leg.

She sat in her wheelchair.

I sat opposite
wondering what
it must be like
to have one leg.

Pull your skirt down,
the nursing nun said,
it's indecent
to show off
your leg like that.

Anne stared at the nun.

My leg hurts,
she said,
rubbing it,
helps it.

Where does it hurt?
the nun asked.

Everywhere
even the toes hurt,
Anne said grumpily.

The leg
has been amputated,
so how can it hurt?
the nun said,
now pull the skirt
over the stump,
Benedict doesn't
want to see
your stump.

I didn't mind,
but I said nothing;
I looked at the nun's
black habit,
her thin features,
her pointed nose,
thin lips.

Anne pulled the skirt
over her stump slowly.

It's my stump,
I should be able
to show it
to whom ever I want,
anyway, Benny likes
gawking at my stump,
he does it
all the **** time.

The nun gazed
at Anne in silence;
then at me.

Your manners
need to be brought
into line, young lady,
if you
were at my old school,
you would learn manners
or else.

Anne sat back
in her wheelchair.

But I’m not
at your old school,
I’m in a nursing home
after the butcher’s job
the doctors did
on my leg,
she said.

The nun's features stiffened.

I looked at Anne
and her tilted head
and the hidden stump.

There are many
complaints about you,
the nun said,
from other children
and the other
sister nuns;
we will report you
to the nursing home
authorities,
the nun said.

Anne said nothing,
but looked
at the swings
where other children
played.

I sat looking
at the nun,
her hands hidden
in the pockets
of her habit.

She walked off stiffly
across the green grass.

How about her,
Kid, huh?  

I gazed
at the walking off nun.

Guess she was
a bit annoyed,  
I said.

So what, Kid,
who gives a cat's ***
what they think or say?

I shrugged.

Push me to the beach,
she said,
get me away
from these penguins, Kid,
off to the sea.

So I pushed
the wheelchair down
the avenue of trees,
anything for Anne,
anything to please.

She wanted nothing touched,
Wanted the dark room left
Bereft of nothing not even dust,

All left as it was when baby died,
And the outer world caved
Inwards and crucified
Each muscle and bone

Each fibre of brain
That carried the pain
Of loss and tug

No more on **** or dug.
She wanted nothing moved
Or put aside for memory’s draw,
She wanted it all as it was before

The cot in place; the curtains drawn,
The chair to sit; a place to mourn.

The girl holds
The apricot
In her hand;
And as
She brings it
To her lips
Seductively,

You sit back
In your chair
And take note
Of her movements,
Like an artist
Meditating
On his subject,

Taking in
The way
Her lips part
And her tongue,
Like some
Small lizard,
Licks

The apricot's skin;
The juices
From her mouth
Linger
At the edges;
You watch
As she bites

The flesh sedately
As she can,
(As if
It were
The skin
Of her lover man)
Then eating

(As maybe
Her mother
Told her)
With lips sealed,
Her eyes close,
Her whole body
Engaging the fruit,

The sensations
Of flesh on flesh,
In an almost
****** love game,
The juices runs,
Down the hand,
Out between

Lips partly sealed,
Onto the chin,
Where you watch,
As her hand
Brushes seductively
The high juices
With a small laughter.

After climbing off
the school bus
she grabbed the sleeve

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

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

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

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

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

saying to you in class?
she asked
Roland?

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

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

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

perhaps he finds you attractive
you replied
she slapped your arm

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

Marilyn Monroe attractive
if she sat
on his bony knees

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

your injured arm
playfully
he was saying his sister

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

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

some words her mother
would have slapped her
for saying

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

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

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

her eyes enlarged
and what did you say?
she asked

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

with the weak sun
I said you snogged
pretty good

you said
she slapped your arm
and walked on

no
you called out
I was only joking

she stopped
and turned
and glared at you

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

you’re lying
she said
all right

you said
seeing her eyes watering
I said I loved you

you said
looking at her
wondering if her hand

might slap you again
did you?
yes

and what did he say?
she asked
he just shrugged

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

of his maths book
she was silent
and looked by you

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

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

conjuring up images
her mother
would define as sin.

Nima looked bored
as we walked
the art gallery
she was only allowed out

of the hospital
for a few hours
promising no drug fixes
or *****

can't we go elsewhere?
she asked
bored here
I felt her boredom

it seeped into my bones
let's go for a coffee
I said
so we went for a coffee

in a coffee bar
across the road
and had a smoke
you were late

she said
I only have a few hours
out of that mad house
sorry I popped

into the jazz record shop
and left me waiting
in Trafalgar Square
she said

what did you buy?
nothing yet
I said
I'll go back later

saw a Coltrane LP I liked
I said
***** that jazz stuff
she said

we drained our coffees
and walked back
to the train station
and I saw her

on her train
and kissed her
at the window
and the train went off

and I watched
until she was out of sight
then back tracked
to the jazz record shop

to buy the Coltrane LP
thinking of Nima
and the time
we had a ***

in that cheap hotel
by Charing Cross
and the bed creaking
and the odd

hot and cold water taps
and she and I
laying there
I walked back

to the gallery
for a last look around
thinking of the Coltrane
and the Coltrane sound.

Ariadne
liked her *** best

on an armchair
or the sofa

with her lover
Bernice, in charge

of the *** games,
especially

those involving
sweat cream being

slowly licked off
of her body,

or a warm tongue
moving between

her naked thighs,
which, through pleasure

over again,
brought the warm tears

to her dark eyes.
And in moments

reflecting back
to her childhood

and her father's
cruel sadistic

abusive ways,
she wondered how

over the years,
she kept intact

inside her mind
and injured heart

and tortured skin,
the deep seated

capacity
to allow love

not to be spoilt,
or the places

he had tainted,
to be tabooed

to her lover,
especially

when she slowly
slides her finger

along her spine
or between legs

satisfying
her paradise,

her pudendum,
as her lover,

laughing, calls it.
But most of all,

despite the past
of abusive

hurts and foul touch,
she still has that

ability
to overcome

the dark years,
to love her hot

lover, Bernice,
that **** *****,

all too human,
and all too much.

Ariel
sits across
opposite
from myself

looking plump
and balding

we're talking
of Tolstoy
(Ariel's
favourite
novelist)

he creates
the largest
fictional
canvases
Ariel
informs me

his large eyes
focusing
on his class
of real ale

now and then
looking at
a table
quite near us
where young girls
talk and laugh

their laughter
echoing
in the warm
evening
summer air

I prefer
Marcel Proust
I tell him

watching how
his eyes scan
the young girls

less manly
Ariel
says to me
don't like Proust
no substance
just gossip
from parties
he went to
you know he
was a queer

yes I know

wrote in bed

yes I know

he gazes
at the girls
taking in
their laughter
their bodies
their brightness

all his thoughts
of Tolstoy
put aside

I sip beer
wondering
what Tolstoy
would say here
seeing this
this canvas

intellect
dissolved in
human lust
words silent

write again
another
War and Peace
in English
now I trust.

It was a room
at the top of the building

music being played
from some hifi system

and Judy said
you dance quite well

thanks
you said

haven’t seen you
here before

she looked at you
with her dark eyes

I come for the drug aid
they help me here

to get of the junk
oh right

you replied
looking for signs

of needle marks
or signs in the eyes

you take junk?
No I’m a ***** clown

you said
she nodded

and danced to the music
for a moment or so

my parents are doctors
in the City and have put me

in the hospital but I get out
for a few hours

and they let me
come here for the help

you looked at her dressed
in her tight slacks

and over long jumper
her ******* small

compact
untouchable

her hips swaying
to the music’s beat

the way she moved
drawing you in

smelling her scent
her words lost

in a singer’s voice
a guitar whining

in and out
maybe I can come see you  

you have to shout
over the music’s rising sound

sure
she said

moving her neat ***
as she moved around

and she whispered
the address and where

the hospital was
and how to get there

then she was whisked away
by some guy

with a drugged out
look in his eye

and you watched her sway
moving off

going slowly
but sexily away.

Book us a bed
and room for the day
Julie said
so you did

in some cheap dive
off Charing Cross Road
you were up London
for the day

so that booked
(the dame gave you
that oh yes of course
it's for ***

kind of look)
you ventured
to Dobell's Jazz shop
and picked out

an Ornette Coleman LP
and went into a booth
and was blown away
some concert

in Stockholm
he'd done
after that
you met Julie

in Trafalgar Square
and she was waiting there
dull of hair and eyes
(drug withdrawal)

and said
did you do it?
yes booked it
not far from here

you said
she nodded
and looked about her
at the crowds

and Nelson's Column
and the lion statues
shall we go now then?
she said

OK
you said
and you took her along
to where

the cheap dive was
and the dame
at the desk
gave her

enjoy it kid gaze
and up
the windy stairs
to an upper storey

and opened up the door
and went in
bit of a dump
Julie said

looking around  
a double bed
and chest of drawers
and dressing table

and a gas heater
she walked into
the bathroom
with a huge bath

and two enormous taps
you looked out
the window
which looked out

at a brick wall
it'll do
she said
and went to the bed

and sat on it
and bounced
up and down
a few times

not bad
she said
so then she took of her coat
and kicked off her shoes

and began to take off
her red jumper
are you here
just to watch?

she said
pulling the jumper
over her head
no just waiting

for the go
you said
well go then
she said

and you took off
the ankle boots
and jacket
and unbutton

your creamy shirt
and you noticed
her white bra
and the smallness

of her ****
and taking off
your shirt
you thought

of that quick ***
in the cupboard
in the hospital
where she was

for the drugs
and all
and how quick
and cramped

it was in there
yet here was room
and bed and you unzipped
your wide bottomed trousers

and stepped out of them
and she was already
in the bed
laying there waiting

and you got in
beside her
and touched her
right ***

and she said
**** me
your hand is cold
warm it up

she said
so you did
and she was happier then
with you beside her

your warmed up hands
feeling her
touching and holding
and she kissed you

and put her hands
about you
and then
it was all go

and outside London
was moving on
traffic roared
people getting

on with lives
a cat meowed
and a car backed fired
the gas fire spat out flames

and after the ***
laying back
she said
the nurse at the hospital

told the doctors
I was missing out
on medication
and taking

a backward step
(she'd taken a pill or two
from some ****
at a London club)

and as she talked
her head on the pillow
a cigarette held aloft
you lay beside her

thinking of her body
her thighs
her *******
her lips

her eyes
your cigarette held
to one side
smoke rising

ceiling ward  
you wanted
to make love again
as outside

on the windowsill
the sharp
pitter patter
of heavy rain.

Art
is like

a universal prayer
in the language

of colour,
shape,

design and pattern,
but with an

infinite span
of interpretations

seeking
an answer

Alice sits brushing her hair,
stroke following stroke,

her husband sitting
on the edge of the bed

watching, studying her
hand and brush going

downward and out and
downward and out, and

as he watches he suddenly
remembers his mother

doing likewise and he
standing by the doorframe

of her bedroom, sees her
hand pull the brush through

her tight black hair, and
hears her sobbing voice

over the old white radio
playing some country song,  

and senses an uneasiness
fill him like a wetting of pants,

and his mother gazing at him
in the mirror before her with

her red rimmed eyes and he
knowing as she lifts the brush

threateningly, that that way
pain comes and danger lies.

They never felt the vibrations
Of the voices out of the walls
Like you did, never heard their
Ghosts call from the mouths of
Birds from the fields below
The asylum window, or felt
The cold embrace of depression’s
Touch, at least not over much.

They never counted the distance
From bed to wall from wall to door
And back again, never felt the pinch
Or punch of each new day, each new
Hour, never thirst for the next drink
That never came, that teased
And tormented like good old demented
You, you with the Marylyn Monroe
Walk, the Greta Garbo talk.

From the asylum window you
Would stand and stare and watch
The seagulls in the air, see the seasons
Change from hot to cold, from light
To dark and never forget your demon’s
Hold, your lover’s eyes, his voice,
His sickly smile, the way he touched
You that final time, and all you could do
After you stabbed him through, as an
Exciting encore, was to kiss his dying
Lips as you’d never kissed before.

Benedict waits
by the pram sheds
in the Square
for Lydia

to come out
of her flat
he wants to take her
to the big bomb site

behind the tabernacle
although she won't
tell her mum
where she's going as such

she'll say to the park
to play on the swings
or slide or other such thing
just as he did

to his mother
the baker rides by
on his horse drawn cart
the horse walking slow

the baker sitting
on top of the cart
nodding his head
still no sign

of Lydia
Benedict sighs
he hates wasting time
likes to be out

and at it
a man with his boxer dog
walks by
the man puffing

a cigarette
hat at the back
of his head
the door opens

and Lydia comes out
in her red and white
checked dress
and white cardigan

she looks stressed
and walks towards Benedict  
looking behind her
at the door

of the flat
got out then?
he says
just about

she says
had to help
put the washing
in the copper

and gather up all
the ***** stuff
and take *******
to the shoot

and just done
he nods
and says
a girl's work

is never done
as my old man says
well it is for now
she says

where are we going?
she asks
big bomb site
behind the tabernacle

he says
isn't it
dangerous there?
she says

not if you’re careful
and don't let
the Rozzers see you
he says

so they walk
down the *****
and along
Rockingham Street

she talks of her mother
being in a mood
about her father's drinking
and O yes it's all right

for him to *****
and sing
and play the fool
but it's me

who has to feed
you kids
and keep a roof
over your heads

she says
her mother said
Benedict listens
takes in

her straight hair
her thin arms
and legs
her pale features

her mouth opening
and closing
like a fish
in a bowl

they cross over the road
and walk up
and along the street
behind the Trocadero

by the smaller bomb sites
along the narrow alley
and out
on the main road

where they go down
the subway
to get across
to the tabernacle

she still talking
about her mother
and her big sister
and the bloke

she brought home
the other night
and wanted to take him
to the bedroom

for some reason
or other
Lydia adds frowning
the subway echoes

her words
they float
then bounce
off the walls

as they climb the stairs
up and out
she stops
and looks

at the bomb site anxiously
will other kids be there?
she asks
usually are

he says
but that doesn't
matter none
they'll keep to themselves

and we can keep to ours
she bites her lip
and follows him
as they climb

between hoardings
and up and into
the bomb site
with its half standing houses

and ruins
and walls
and houses empty
with no roofs

or roofs
with only three walls
she hesitates
stands with her fingers

in her mouth
want if the Rozzers come?
she says
leave it to me

he says confidently
she follows him
as he climbs
onto a wall

and over the top
come on
he says
she climbs after him

mind you don't
scrape your knees
he says
and helps her

over the wall
holding one
of her hands
she gets up and over

and stands inside
a bombed out house
it stinks
she says

yes probably
some tramps
****** in here
he says

not still in here
is he?
she says anxiously
no long ago scarpered

he says
he walks through a room
and she walks after him
holding her nose

looking around her
bits of wallpaper hang
from walls
a doorway with no door

a window without glass
that looks out
on an abandoned garden
full of weeds

she follows him up
a riggedy stairway
holding on
to a rocking bannister

and up
to a landing
with three rooms
going off

in each direction
he stands still
taps the floorboards
with his foot

should be safe
he says
is it?
she says nervously

course it is
he says
walking carefully
over the floor

of the room
she stands
by the doorway
what if the floorboards

are rotten
and you fall through?
she says softly
then I get

to the bottom
quicker than I came up
he says smiling
come on

he says
beckoning her over
she stands still
fiddling with her fingers

then she bites her fingers
of one hand
and holds her groin
with the other

it won't give way
he says
she holds herself
it might

she says
then we die together
he says
what away to go eh?

she looks at him
standing there
with his hazel eyes
and quiff of hair

and his hand
held out
towards her
she walks gingerly

over the floorboards
one step
after another
until she reaches

his hand
and grips it tight
and they are there
in the middle

of the room
she feeling
as if she's wet herself
and he like one

who has climbed
Mount Everest
and is about
to plant a flag

with glee
she looks at him
and he looks out
the window

as far
as his hazel eyes
can see.