She enters the room
where you’re making up
the old men’s beds and

creeps up behind you
and puts her arms around
your waist and breathes

on your neck. What do you
want Sophie? I have work
to do and if Matron finds you

here there’ll be trouble.
She puts her hand over
your mouth and says well

shut the **** up then what
do you expect if you’re pushing
out the words as soon as I get

near you. You smell her hand
near your nose feel her skin
next to yours. You move her

hand away and say do you have
to use that kind of language?
She pulls a face and falls back

on the made up bed and says
what if Matron comes in now eh?
What you going to tell her? Get

up you can’t lay there like that
you say trying to pull her off the
bed. She pulls you down on

top of her and holds you there
as you struggle to get away. Calm
down you ******* ****** boy

I won’t hurt you and she laughs.
You smell peppermint. Her
tongue licks you. Her lips

press on to yours. She pushes
the kiss right into you. You
want to breathe need breath.

She releases you and you get
off the bed and tidy yourself up
and say get off the bed God

knows what the old boys will
think if they come in now and
see you lying there like a *****.

She pokes out her tongue and
says at least they are men and
know what their penises are for.

Come on Sophie give me a break
you say gazing at her there her
uniform rising up her thighs.

Ok ****** boy she says and she
gets off the bed and straightens
out the bedcover and pillows and

then stands gazing at you and says
it’s not every girl who’ll give that kind
of chance. You say nothing and go to

the window and peer out at trees and
bushes in the ground. Then she’s gone.
The room’s silent when you turn around.

Summer recess had come
and she sat with you
out in the field
over looking her house

and the railway
was not far off
where the occasional train
puffed by sending

a sprouting of white smoke
as it went by
and she looked at it passing
and spoke of after school days

when she would begin
her adult life and settle down
and have children
but you were thinking

of a train trip with your parents
years before
to some seaside place
and you watched

the scenery go by
and the steam go by
the window
and the smell

and the sight excited you
and stuck itself
inside your head
and Judith said

what do you think?
and you said
about what?
and she said

about children's names?
what names
would you choose?
your brain struggled

to the surface
and whirled through
a list of names
that came to mind

boy or girl?
you asked
she sighed
either

haven't you been
listening to me?
sorry got distracted
by the train smoke

had a Proustian moment
you said
a what?
she said

a Proustian moment
you replied
what the heck is that?
she said

pulling her skirt
over her knees
where it had risen up
as she moved  

Marcel Proust wrote
that eating a certain cake
took him back
to a certain moment

of his life
but you
haven't been eating cake
Judith said

her hand rested
on her knees
her eyes focusing on you
no it's just an example

you said
about how things
can remind you
of other things

or places or times
do you recall
the first time we kissed?
she asked

yes
you said
of course I do
it was near Christmas

and we were carol singing
and it was dark
and the moon was out
and the stars were bright

and your lips pressed
onto mine
ok ok
she said laughing

at least you remember
and as she moved forward
the buttons
of her white blouse

parted briefly
to reveal a hint
of fleshy *******
so what names

do you like?
she asked
none come to mind
you said

she shook her head
what about Rachel or David?
she said
fine

you said
nice religious names
although David
brings to mind

a kid with a catapult
and a girl I once knew
with buckteeth who smelt
of old socks

she looked skywards
and sighed
and lay back
on to the grass

and you lay beside her
both of you  
gazing up
at the expanse

of blue and white
her hand reaching out
for yours
in that one moment

of life
in the great
out of doors.

Having met Julie
at Victoria railway station
and travelled by tube
to Charing Cross Road

you sneaked
into Dobell's
jazz record shop
and listened

to some Coltrane
in the small record booth
up close
she having got out

of the hospital
for the day
although
the drug withdrawal

was getting her tight
her short skirt
was riding high
as she sat there

squashed up
near to you
her eyes closing
and opening

her hands
in prayer mode
in her lap
can we go now?

she said
I need a drink
and smoke
so you left the booth

giving the guy
back the Coltrane
record sleeve
and left the shop

taking it on foot
to the café
and ordering
two coffees

and she took out
her smokes and lit up
and she gave
you one too

and she talked
of how her parents
hadn't visited
and how

the whole show
at the hospital
was getting her
on the edge

and you sat
watching her
the dark hair
drawn back

with a black ribbon
the red
high necked jumper
the short black skirt

her eyes bright
as stars
her lips making
a large O

then closing up
and going
like a narrow slit
you remember

that quickie
we had
in that small cupboard?
she said

those brooms
and boxes
and then she smiled
and you smiled too

that was my last time
she said
last time I had it
she said louder

she took a drag
of her smoke
and sat silent
watching the smoke

rise before her eyes
Warwick’s worried
about you
you said

is he now
she said sarcastically
well he can go pray
to his God

for me then
she said
sitting back
in the seat

yes you thought
the ***
had been good
but quick

unexpected
out of the blue
she in her night gown
(and little else)

and in the background
the music playing
from the radio
some Beatles' song

along the hospital ward
what did you think
of the Coltrane album?
you said

breaking the silence
in the café
bored my **** off
she said

I’ll get it anyway
you replied
and she looked out
the window darkly

as if someone
had fingered her
slowly
then died.

Sure, he brought you lilac
And made the usual

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

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

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

Even his mother gives
Him a wide berth and has

Little to do with him,
Other than what most good

Mothers will if pushed to
Their limits and need to

Take account of who and
What their offspring is

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

But he sleeps with other
Girls who are easy and

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

To his every word and
Gaze and look and try to

Fit him into this type
Or that or into this

Way of being or gaze
At some wedding day book.

Sure, he kisses you all
Shyly and gentle, but

Behind your back, he
Drives dames mental with his

Wanting this and that and
Wanting it regular

And here and now and right
Upfront or behind or

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

Things, gifts and funny jokes
And is kindly to your

Mother, but unknown to
You or any other

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

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

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

It gladly given or
What he can gladly take.

That last time in Brighton
Back in 1980 was a dead

Lost. The old haunts seemed
Changed, the restaurants

Closed or changed hands,
The seafront less friendly,

Less romantic, the glamour
Gone, all high dreams spent.

Pity really we ever went.
But we did, you at least,

Trying to bring it back to life
That old love, that closeness,

That cold-night rush-to-coast
By train romance, that last

Time just memory, being put
To rest, I guess. Even that crap

Hotel had closed down where
We made love on those *****

Weekends, where one midday,
We unconcerned about that

Office block across the way,
With office workers, maybe

Spying, as we had *** that day.
Yes, the last time in Brighton

Was a lost cause; even the sad
Photographs we had taken there

Showed the dead love in faces
And eyes. The clicking camera,
Someone once said, never lies.

Mrs Parton said
come on round
my husband's out
for the day
and won't be home for lunch

so Baruch went around
on his afternoon off
forsaking the relaxation
of listening to Delius

forgoing two glasses of wine
and a closed eyes
lie down on his bed
he visited Mrs Parton instead

walking up her street
eyes behind curtains
watching him he supposed
she opened her door

and let him in
there
she said
sit on the sofa

and hey take off
your jacket
so he took off
his jacket

and she laid it
on an armchair
a dog barked nearby
o pay him no mind

that's just Brownie our mutt
I locked him outside
o right
Baruch said

looking up
at the window
across the room
where the sound

came from
you want a drink?
she asked
yes ok

he said
I'll get you one later
she said
and she leaned into him

and kissed his cheek
he felt it and sensed
the passion behind it
but didn't expect it

after all
she was 40
to his 28
( why did I come

around? he mused)
she leaned back
and gazed at him
her eyes hawk-like

taking in
his uncertainty
don't look so surprised
she said

after all
you did come around
yes
he said

of course
she kissed him
on the lips
and shut out

any more words
he might have had
he closed his eyes
tried to remember

a bit of Delius
some aspect
of his music
to make sense

of his moments
their lips parted  
she placed a hand
on his upper thigh

moved it to his crotch
(Mrs Cleves would have
got him at this stage
of operations a scotch)

his eyes lit up
his pecker stirred
I can sense movement
in the jungle

she said
how about here
on the sofa
I don't want to

on the marital bed?
Baruch tried to calm
the pecker
attempted to think

on higher things
are you sure?
he said
right now?

why waste time
she said
and proceeded to
lift up her skirt

and take off
her underwear
he sat
with an uncertain stare  

come on
she said
let's get on
before the kids

get home from school
school?
he muttered
yes they'll be home

in an hour or so
she said
she lay back
and pulled him

close to her
he fiddled to undress
thought of how
Mrs Cleves

would have got him
nigh on hooked on
***** first
before she pounced

he lay on her
(Mrs Parton)
his lips touching hers
but the pecker

wouldn't stir
it lay slumped
like a drunk
come on

she said
don't you want to?
I do but Percy doesn't
he said

Percy?
she muttered
he pointed downwards
o

she said
her voice
indicating disappointment
maybe I was too rushed

she said
maybe
he said
and sat back down

on the sofa
and she sat up
how about a drink?
that might stir him

she said
ok sure
Baruch said
she walked off

towards the kitchen
he sat studying the room
he put away his pecker
zipped up the fly

the mutt barked
the sound of a bottle
being uncorked
a voice singing

he thought of Mrs Cleves
**** naked
on the rug
19 years his senior

but my God
he thought
she made it all
so much easier.

Abela waits for me
at a table outside
some cafe in town

she's smoking
and looking at the book
she'd brought

a waitress had taken her order
of coffee and pancakes  

a guy a few tables a way
gives her the eye
he sits one leg
crossed over the other
he's confident of his looks
and the bright shirt he's wearing
he smokes a French cigarette
even though he's not in France
he studies her figure
drinks in her legs
coming down
from her short skirt
the feet in her sandals

she senses him looking
(how do you dames do that?)
she looks at him
over the pages
of her open book

he smiles
moves his head to one side
as if to suggest
she go sit next to him

she lowers her eyes
to the page
tries to take in the words
but she's lost it now
and her mind
has been invaded by him
she's beginning to wonder
where I've got to
and stares at the page
of her book
(****** book anyway)

the guy's smile
seems frozen to his face
his eyes feed on her
every visible part of her

I see Abela sitting
at the table
outside the cafe

I have managed to shower
myself sober to a degree
but a headache lingers
at the corner of my mind
like an actor
waiting to come on stage
when the times right

I take a seat opposite her
I've arrived
I say

at last
thought you'd drowned yourself

you don't sound relived
that I'm here
maybe I should
have drowned
and got rid
of the lingering headache
that way

you're not the headache
that guy over there is
keeps gaping at me

how do you know
he's gaping at you?

I've looked

so you were gaping at him?

no I just sensed
he was ******* me
with his eyes

how far did he get?

it's not funny
he's intimidating me

I look behind me
at the guy
and give him
my best Clint Eastwood stare

he looks away
and waves to a waitress
I look back at Abela

did you order for me?

no wasn't sure
if you were up
to drinking
she says
from behind her book

I wave a hand to a waiter
standing by the door
of the cafe
he comes over
and I order
coke and bread roll and jam
and he nods and goes off

I see the guy behind me
chatting up the waitress
and making her laugh

I turn and look at Abela
how's the book?

she lowers it
give the guy a stare
and says
****** book
but it's better than looking
at an empty chair

well I'm here now
so we can talk

what about?

What would you like
to talk about?

last night?

what about last night?

you were making eyes
at that waitress
in the restaurant of the hotel
and being suggestive

to you?

no to her

I pull a face
and light up a cigarette
I bummed then?

yes you did
and I had to help you
to our room

thanks

don't thank me
I had help

who from?

Mr Green helped me

that old buzz?

yes that old buzz
at least he was sober
and civilized

good for him
bet his crabby wife
wasn't pleased

no she wasn't
she looked daggers

doesn't she always?

a waitress brought Abela
her coffee and pancakes
and she put down her book

I waited and watched
giving her
my softer
Clint Eastwood look.

I can't believe
how raw I feel
despite the length
of unwound time.

The gripping heart,
like fingers
squeezing tight,
the same flow up
behind the eyes,

the same sensation
around the throat
like one about to choke,
like the inhalation
of flameless smoke,

the opening up
of wounds one thought
were healing,
that rawness,
that deep plunging in,
that cold hurt feeling
still sinking in.

O my dear one,
my dead son,
O you just beyond
my reach or seeming so,
tell me where you are
that I may go.

No, no,
I know,
time's hand
will tick it
soon enough,
I guess,
whether months
or years or countless
decades, like ocean's wide.

Still raw,
still seeking
that place to weep,
that place to hide.

The view was good from the hotel window the beach the skyline the hotel area with palm trees placed here and there and the swimming pool and the people around it some lying in sunbeds or in the pool swimming or standing talking one or two walking around in bathing trunks or bikinis Benedict stared down at the girls measured with his eyes sizes and heights and age yes that was important some looked younger than they were some were aged but didnt look so from where he stood what you looking at? Abela asked from the bed lowering the book shed been reading making the most of the scenery he replied dont get this view where we live quite picturesque isnt it she said better than the postcard view in the brochure he watched one of the girls walk to the edge of the pool stretch her arms out and dive into the water and splash she resurfaced shaking water from her head like a dog her hair flowing about her head come back to bed Abela said you need to rest before our evening out into town and you know how tired you get unless youve rested well he watched the girl pull herself out of the water her bulbs visible as she moved forward her thighs were fine and a nice **** tight he thought as she turned towards the pool again come on Abela said the view cant be that good ok he said turning away from the window as the girl dived in again he walked back to the bed and lay beside Abela who had the book in her hand and before her face reading he lay there his head on a pillow staring at the ceiling and the fan going slowly around and around Im here now he said how about it? about what? she said lowering the book us now you know relaxing after a bit of exercise what exercise? she asked the kind of exercise that we do in unison he said if you mean *** the answer is no not now Im not in the mood besides Im at an interesting part of the book he sighed and looked at the fan again you must rest she said take a chance to sleep then maybe after out evening out we could exercise she said putting the book in front of her shutting him out he closed his eyes breathed in the scent of her body the sense of her beside him the slight movement of her body vibrating in the bed as he lay the first time hed had *** with her was by surprise not planned one of those things that happened when it didnt seem on the cards theyd just closed up shop after the last customer and had totalled up the till and she went up stairs to make sure no customer had been left in but it was empty the beds and bedroom furniture was as it should be except Benedict was laying on one of the beds by the window what you doing? she asked trying out the bed he replied and? what's it like? she asked come and try he said patting the space beside him on the bed she walked over to the bed and looked at him Ive not got time for testing beds now she said chill out he said patting the bed she sighed and lay beside him on the bed she lay back and felt the mattress beneath her and bounced a little seems good she said running a hand along the surface he turned and faced her she looked around at him it's good she said wish I could afford to buy it and not just sell it need to have a honest feel about things here he said studying her features honest feelings? she said well he said most people buy a bed to sleep in but also to make love in so? she said well how can we say its good bed when we dont know what its like to have *** in? we just say it she said they take our word for it dishonesty at the extreme he said thats business she said she turned to face him they stared at each other he taking in her bright eyes and snub nose and round chin and jawline she took in his hazel eyes moustache and quiff of brown hair and that smiling eyes we must go she said need we? he said yes Ive got to get home as Im out tonight she said who with? he asked friends of mine from college and school he smiled youre quite a beauty Ive not noticed before just how beautiful you are she looked away from him and looked at her wristwatch look its getting on she said we could try the bed out he said we have tried it out she said not love making we havent he said are you suggesting we have *** here now? she said her eyes wide I havent suggested anything he said just thought what kind of girl do you think I am? she said never gave it a thought what kind of girl you were he said well Im not the kind of girl to have *** just like that she said and saying that Im beautiful wont wash with me they lay looking at each other he gazing at her eyes blue or green he couldnt decide she looked at him there that brown quiff of hair and how could she come up here the next day and not see them on the bed having ***? it wasnt on but she lay there sensing an urge opening within her like small bud widening as if water had touched and brought to life but she she could she? she tried to push it from her thoughts the image of them there having *** and he was laying there gazing at her and o why did he have to suggest such a thing she lay on her back and said the bed seems so good for sleeping on seems a shame not to know what its like to have *** on doesnt it? my sentiments too he said she got off the bed and began to undress and he after watching for a few moments began to undress too the upstairs furniture room now seemed transformed seemed smaller the window above the bed showed late afternoon sky a few sounds outside of passing traffic  she had undressed completely he had also following her example got to do it right she said no clothes makes it seem more natural as if it were an experiment rather than a sordid affair he looked at her standing by the bed hed not seen her like that before hed only imagined her like that in the few moments at work when not busy now there she was the small but tight **** the dark brush the thighs shall we? she said and lay down in the bed he lay there beside her she put a hand on his chest and he opened his eyes and she said see you needed that rest now we can get ready to go out he rubbed his eyes as she got up from the bed but he kept the image of her inside his head.

We're on a bomb site
behind the tabernacle
looking for some
ammunition for

my catapult
which I carry
in the back pocket
of my jeans

Fay is looking
amongst the debris
of old bombed
out houses

or just area  
left where
houses stood
it's a sunny day

holiday time
no school
-makes me happier-
is this one too big?

she asks
I look over
no that's a good one
I say

she brings it over
to where I stand
she holds it
between her

thin finger and thumb
and she drops it
into my palm
I weigh it up

and down then
drop it into
my pouch
-a knotted handkerchief-

she looks at me
her blue eyes
searching me
her fair hair

brought behind
her head in
a ponytail
have you ever

thought about self?
I look at her
self?
I say

what do you mean?
the I of us
what we call me
I look nonplus

and look down
for more small stones
a nun at school
said the I

in Christianity means
the I crossed out
in the form
of a cross

in other words
our self is not
more important
than that I or self

of another
and as a Christian
we should put
the self

of another first
I find a small stone
and pick it up
and finger it

so the cross is
supposed to show
self crossed out?
I say uncertainly

she looks at the stone
I'm holding
yes that's what
she was saying

self denial I think
is what she meant
Fay says
scratching her head

this nun at school
does she ever
tell jokes?
Fay frowns

no not as far
as I've heard
well I could
tell you one

O'Brien told me
but it's not for girls
to hear
not girls

as good as you
I say
Daddy says jokes
are sinful to say

and to hear Fay says
when I innocently
told him one
the other year

a girl at school told me
he spanked me
and said never
to hear or say jokes

ever again
what was the joke?
I ask
shouldn't say

she says
there's only you
and me here
no one will know

if you tell me
except God
and I guess He's
heard it before

I say
she looks at me
her blue eyes
staring

ok but don't
tell Daddy
I told you
she says

I promise not to tell
your old man
I say
well a man took his wife

to the cinema
and as they waited
in the queue
a man in front of them

passed wind
and the husband
said to the man
how dare you

pass wind
in front of my wife
and the man said
sorry I didn't know

it was her turn
I laugh and so does she
and I like how
her eyes sparkle

when she laughs
and her face lights up
like a summer day
then she's looks

at her hands
that was good
I say
but it's sinful

she says
but the brightness
in her face and eyes
didn't go away.

The summer sun
warmed you and Jane

as you made your way
up the dried up

muddy track
towards the Downs

the sunlight
pouring through

the branches of trees
overhead

you thinking
of your work

on the farm below
the day before

the weighing of the milk
the clearing out

of cowsheds
and the cowman saying

what do you want to do
when you leave school?

to be a cowman
you replied

you want to get yourself
a proper job

you don’t want to do this
for a living

and Jane said
breaking you

from your thoughts
I want to show you

where I used to sit on the Downs
and where I used to collect

bones and skeletons of rabbits
and moles and birds

and you turned
and looked at her

as she walked beside you
her hands swinging

as she walked
her black hair tied

in a small bun
at the back

and her yellowy flowered dress
capturing your eyes

my father works in the woods
further along

you said
he works in the ditches

and hedgerows too
she bent down

and plucked a flower
that’s Squinancywort

she said
showing you the flower

as she twirled it
between fingers

she offered it to you to smell
lovely isn’t it?

you nodded
and carried the scent

with you as you both
moved on up the track

she turned to you and said
your dad does well

at his work for a townie
and you smiled

and so did she
and you captured

her lips parting
and her bright white teeth

and her eyes
moving over you

like a soft caress
and she whispered

turning her head away
do you love me?

and you whispered
yes.

That was it
the **** bit
where love ends
where promises are broken
where kisses freeze
on cheeks or lips.

That was it
the tough bit
where cancer creeps
spider like
or slithers through limbs
as snakes through grass
and you die.

That was it
the hard bit
where suffering outweighs
the scales of prayers
and the child cries
for a loss
up the tall stairs.

That was it
the crucifying bit
the nails hammered in
the cross of flesh and bones
the heart plundered
for feelings and sense
the last farewell
no recompense.

I walked with Janice
through the Square
passed the milkman
and his horse drawn cart

she touching the horse
as we passed
and on to the top
and out onto Rockingham Street

and onto Harper Road
where are we going?
Janice asked
I want to show you

this bomb site
bomb site?
what's so special
about this bomb site?

it's got a big freezer
in the back
she looked at me
with her blue eyes

how big?
big enough for us
to get in and more
I said

we crossed the road
and turned left
and along round the back
she followed me

around the back
and through a gap
in the wooden panelling
and into the backyard

of the bombed out
butcher's shop
I walked over the bricks
and wood to the back

of the butcher's shop
and showed her
the big white freezer
gosh

she said
never seen anything
that big
I opened the door

and saw it was busted
it won't shut
it's busted
the locks busted

we went inside
it smelt stale and sickly
must have kept meat here
I said

smells like it
she said
we went out
and I pushed open

the door at the back
that led into the shop
we walked in
and around

the smell still there
dust and fallen
masonry and wood
an old till

with a drawer half open
it's creepy in here
she said
ghostly

like someone
is watching us
rats probably
I said

rats!
she said
and jumped backwards
she looked around her

and I saw her eyes
wide open
aren't you scared?
she asked

seen plenty of rats and mice
even saw a ***** in some place
******* in a corner
of a room

and he chased me off
I said
can we go now?
she said

I’ve seen enough
I gazed at her
saw her wide eyes
and said

ok
I’ve been here before
and seen most of it
so we climbed

out the back
and passed the freezer
and out the gap
and onto Harper Road

and along to the Penny Shop
to get a couple
of 1d drinks
then walked back

to the Square
and my parent's flat
and that basically
was that.

Father died that year. So did
Bob Kennedy, although that
Was a different death, planned
Right down to the last dark detail.
But your father’s was more personal,
More hurtful, getting right into your
Bones and heart. You were sitting
In the doctor’s surgery with your
Father where he’d come about pains
In the chest and back, when some guy
Came in and said, Bob Kennedy’s dead,
Some ******’s shot him (excuse my French,
He added, there women being present).
There was muttering amongst the throng,
Whispers, coughs, splutters, then a silence
Deeper than awaiting death by your father’s
Elbow, seemingly deeper than Nietzsche’s
Haunting eyes. Your father said nothing
That you recall, but no doubt he felt the
Same sadness that most felt that day,
The waste of a life, a fine brain blown out
Like some candle in a dark room, another
Organized ***** out by some rogue element
Of government backrooms. Father died
That year unbeknown by the world at large
(As if it cared), but death was just as certain
And thorough when it came, sweeping him
Silently from the hospital ward, his link to
Life cut like a bloodied umbilical cord.

Father Joe died that year.
The Benedictine monk
who’d got you through
the worst of things.

Cancer got him in the end.
Your youngest daughter
was born that year but
nearly lost some heart

**** up the docs fixed
with their box of tricks
and the hand from God
you guessed. A year you’d

listened to Nellie Melba
from old opera recordings
on your Walkman sitting
on trains to the hospital

and back having visited
the sick wife and babe
both on different wards.
Before the babe was born

you and your wife had
visited the abbey grounds
where Father Joe had been
laid to rest with a simple cross.

The old monk
with Parkinson’s disease,
bug eyed

through thick lenses
spectacles,
his fingers

shaking the host,
is unable to find
the tongue

in sick monk’s
static mouth.
I weeded

the cloister Garth
flower bed,
back aching,

God
at my young
bent shoulder.

The youngest monk,
squat and black robed,
holds the ewer,

while the abbot
holds between
knobbly fingers,

the aspergillum,
to bless the monks
in the choir stalls,

after Compline,
before
the Angelus calls.

Once school was done
and after your tea
of beans on toast
you went with Janice

to the narrow passages
behind the ABC cinema
evening creeping in
she next to you

getting the jitters
street lights
here and there
casting shadows

making pretend giants
and you'd pick up
dog-ends
from the ground

and put them
in your pocket
what do you want
them for?

she asked
make myself
a cigarette later
you said

cigarette?
she said disapprovingly
you mustn't
that's horrible

and those
left over cigarette butts
have got
people's spit in them

but they make
good cigarettes
you said
her face grimaced

you took in
her red beret
to the side
of her fair hair

her blue eyes
on fire
if I did that
Gran'd spank me

well and truly
Janice said
trick is
not to be caught

you said
a rat ran by
and she screamed
a rat ran by

my foot
she stepped back
and grabbed your arm
yes you get them here

at this time
of an evening
you said
I shouldn't be here

she said quietly
Gran thinks
I'm in the park
well as far she knows

you still are
you said
but that's lying
she said

no it is being
careful with the truth
you said
you walked along

the passageway
and came out
on to the New Kent Road
and at the front

of the cinema
with its big billboards
and little photos
of the film being shown

and what was
to be shown
you peered
at the photographs

Janice beside you
how about
I bring you here
on Saturday?

you said
she peered
at the photographs
then at you

it's a cowboy film
she said
yes and its got
good gunfights in it

and I can practice
how they do it
she frowned
not sure

if Gran'd let me
she said
say you're with me
and she will

you said
she didn't look
convinced
bit her lip

treat you
to an ice cream too
you said
how much will it cost?

she asked
1/-3d
you said
but don't worry

my old man will pay
he usually does
she bit her lip
a little more

have to ask Gran
she said
ok
you said

then you walked
along the road
past some shops
then stopped

at the fish and chips shop
smell that
you said and sniffed
she sniffed

isn't that good
you said
she sniffed again
smells of vinegar

she said
and fish and chips
you said
she looked at you

her blue eyes
lit up
by the light
from the shop

want some chips?
you asked
I've no money
she said

I've got 6d
that'll get us
a bag to share
she nodded

so you both
went into the shop
and the warmth
and the smell

and the noise
from some radio
blasting out
a Bill Haley song

and ordered a 6d
bag of chips
and added
salt and vinegar

and walked out
and across the road
and down Meadow Row
the moonlight bright

lighting up
the beginning of night.

The big kid stood
by the garden shed
with others kids and you
the horticultural teacher

was down by the beds
with some other kids
whom he was showing
how to dig

and the big kid said
I had her
back there
up in those woods

at the end
of the playing field
the other kids
moved in closer

to get a better grip
on the tale told
you stood on
the perimeter

of the crowd
one eye
on the big kid
the other on the teacher

bent over a kid
showing him how
to hold a *****
and you know what?

the big kid said
she was some goer
the other kids
looked at him

then at each other
some plump kid
with spots laughed
you looked over

towards the woods
by the playing field
a quaint woodland
over by the fence

and near the road
and you know
what it’s like? Huh?
the big kid said  

the kids nodded
you noticed
their eyes large
and their tongues

at the corner
of mouths
it was like slipping  
into a warm bed

the big kid said
on a cold night
the teacher made
his way towards

you and the kids
by the shed
the big kid
made gestures

with his hand
and the boys sniggered
half catching on
to the gesture’s tale

the big kid’s hands
went into pockets
out of sight
the other kids

moved towards
the teacher’s
calling voice
you followed

unwillingly
having little choice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

On the third day
of the holidays
you met Janice

half way up Bath Terrace
at the entrance to the flats
where she lived with her gran

she was dressed in her red beret
yellow flowered cotton dress
white socks and brown sandals

she smiled when she saw you
and said
feared you might not show

I told you I’d be here
you said
she looked at you

and said
I know
but some people say things

but don’t show
I’m not some people
if I say I’ll be here

I’ll be here
you said
glad you’re here

she said
Gran doesn’t like me
going out alone

she says there are strange men
out there who take kids off
and do things to them

and ****** them
yes
you said

I read about that boy
they found murdered
near here

she looked concerned
don’t worry
you’re with me

my mum told me
where to kick them
if they try anything on

oh
Janice said as you both
walked up to the top

of the terrace
to Harper Road  
where’re we going?

she asked
a bombed out
butcher’s shop

you replied
isn’t that dangerous?
she asked

not if we’re careful
where we tread
you said

isn’t that breaking
and entering?
she asked

no we don’t break in
you said
we walk in

the back gate
it’s not locked
oh

she said
looking concerned
we won’t get into trouble

will we? Gran said
she’d tan my backside
if I got into trouble

would I get you into trouble?
you asked
guess not

she said softly
you crossed
Harper Road

and went round the back
of the bombed out
butcher’s shop

and opened the gate
and entered
into an empty yard

you shut the gate
after you
and she stood gaping

at the back of the shop
you showed her
the large walk in freezer

where meat had once
been kept
now empty

smelling of ****
and damp
what if you got locked in?

she said
the lock’s busted
you said

oh I see
she replied
her eyes large

and her mouth open
in wonder
you took her into

the shop now empty
apart from a large table
with a marble top

where meat
had once been cut
and chopped up

it stinks
she said
yes tramps get in

sometime and shelter
for the night
are they here now?

she asked nervously
no they go off
in the day

you said
giving her
a smile

you took her up
the creaking stairs
to the upper landing

where the sky
shone through the roof
where a bomb

had fallen in
gosh
she said

how weird
one of the rooms
had an old bed frame

pushed in a corner
and the roof
was still there

except where a few tiles
had gone
someone slept there once

she said
and now
they’re probably dead

you took her hand
and walked her
to the window

and looked out
on Harper Road
people would have looked out

of this window too
you said
sad isn’t it

she said
and you sensed
her lay

on your shoulder
her fair haired
red bereted head.

Over the hills of Lough,
The boys go now
With their pockets

Full of promises;
And their heels kicking
The dust from their feet,

Like fathers pushing away
The years shown in their greying hair.
Listen. The voices carry.

The boys have shouldered
The labours of centuries;
And now over the hills of Lough

They go now,
With their caps
On their heads

And over the brow;
Leaving the girls
To their maidenhood

And the old men
Who once climbed
The hills, but soon

Came back again.

Lydia
sat on the
red tiled door

step of the
ground floor flat
looking out

at the Square
one morning
one Sunday

her father
was in bed
her mother

preparing
Sunday lunch
listening

to music
on the old
radio

her 15
year old big
sister was

asleep with
her boyfriend
her brother

Hem was out
looking for
spiders

to pull off
their legs
one by one

the man with
his boxer
dog walked by

then she saw
Benedict
in tee shirt

and blue jeans
armed with his
6 shooters

in holsters
wearing a
cowboy hat

where abouts
you going?
She asked him

clean up Dodge
he replied
why? is it

***** then?
She called out
sitting there

in her green
flowered dress
Benedict

walked over
to where she
was sitting

you ok?
He asked her
pushing back

on his head
the black hat
no I'm bored

and fed up
she replied
come with me

we can both
clean up Dodge
Benedict

said to her
so where's Dodge?
She asked him

on the big
bomb site off
Meadow Row

can I have
one of your
6 shooters?

Sure you can
have to tell
my mum where

I'm going
Lydia said
Benedict

nodded his
head and said
best not to

mention Dodge
or she may
not let you

go with me
so she went
indoors and

asked her mum
where will you
be? she asked

we're going
to clean up
Dodge City

who are we?
Benedict
and just me

her mother
stared at her
o I see

mother said
be careful
of the roads

and that was
all she said
carrying

on with the
preparing
of the lunch

Lydia
went off with
Benedict

borrowing
one of his
6 shooters

tucked in the
green bow of
her green dress

her eyes bright
her straight hair
unbrushed

and
quite a mess.

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

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

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

Can I help you?

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

His name?

I told her.

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

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

We waited,
looking at each other,
looking away.

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

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

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

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

We said our thank yous
and gazed at the woman.

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

Netanya had just
come back
after a week away
at her daughter's place
up country

and then brought
the daughter back with her
and the daughter
and her partner
had our room upstairs

we were on
the made up bed
on the floor downstairs

did you miss me?
she asked

of course I did

what did you
miss most?

your company

my company?

yes
and the ***
of course

of course
I missed you too
slept in a room
on my own
and thought about you
and had to cuddle
myself and pretend
it was you

we cuddled up
on the made up bed

what did you do?
she asked

I slept with Marilyn Monroe  
and had Liz Taylor
pop in now and then
to break up the monotony  
I said

no really
Netanya said
what did you do?

I hugged your pillow
and kissed it good night
and hugged it all night
until I woke up
and it was
on the floor

on the floor?

yes we must
have a had
a falling out

she laughed
and we made love

and the street lights
went out
and it was dark
and warm

and a dog barked
near by

and I saw
the pale moon
in her right
wide open eye.

Ingrid sat on the brick wall
of the bomb site
her hands in her lap
her untidy hair

held in place
with wire grips
the plain grey
cardigan and dress

had food stains
here and there
you sat beside her
in jeans

and bought for you
cowboy shirt
the Saturday film
matinée

just seen
suppose I'd best be home
Ingrid said
before Dad gets back

he doesn't know
I went to the pictures
and he'll say
it's a waste of money

but it's only 6d
you said
surely he wouldn't
begrudge you that?

she said nothing
but stood up
and brushed down
her dress

best go
she said
wait a while
you said

let's buy some chips
before you leave
I've no more money
she said

I have
you replied
patting your jean's pocket
*******

the 6 shooter
toy gun
hanging
at your waist

best not
she said
if Dad sees me
he'll go off

the deep end
she stood there
half undecided
chips with salt

and vinegar
and maybe
an onion or two
you added

giving her a look
your head to one side
she bit her lip
as she fingered

her cardigan
but Mum said
not to be late
Ingrid said

sometimes
they throw in
a slice of bread
and butter

you said
especially for kids
if you give them
I'm starved look

she smiled
her hands going
into the cardigan pockets
what if he sees me

go in there?
she said
he won't
you said

he couldn't see
the end of his nose
without getting dizzy
you said

anyway he might not
be back until later
she shrugged
and then said

ok if we're quick
and so you stood up
and walked her
up Meadow Row

and across the road
to the fish and chip shop
and bought
2 bags of chips

and onions
and 2 slices
of bread and butter
because you both gave

that we're starved gaze
you walked her back
down Meadow Row
eating in silence

she eating ravenously
her fingers busy
her mouth opening
and closing

once you'd finished
and you'd stuffed
the waste chip papers
into a bin

by the grocer's shop
she said
thank you
that was scrumptious

and she kissed your cheek
and walked off
and across
Rockingham Street

towards the Square
at the top
by the entrance
with arms crossed

grim face  
Ingrid's father
stood scowling
standing there.

Saturday
shop busy
you with Dylan Thomas’s
Deaths & Entrances

poetry book  
tucked in
your inside pocket
of your brown jacket

Miss Croft
Saturday girl
dark hair
ponytailed

swaying
her tight ***
in her short skirt
up and down

the shop aisle
Duff the manager
bespectacled
with curly mass

of dark hair
standing there
cigarette in mouth
conversing

with a customer and wife
about which paint
went best
with what wallpaper

giving the dame
the eye
giving the charm
you tanked up

(you worked better
that way)
with some old couple
wanting curtains

to match
the wallpaper choice
the blue flowers
the pattern

the old guy gazing
at the Croft girl
the way
she wiggled her ***

her la-de-da tones
her bright eyed
expression
then she talked

to friends from college
more friends
than Trotsky
had enemies

standing there
hands on hips
tight tee shirt
small ****

and can you order this
in a light blue
the old dame asked
the blue here’s

too dark
the old guy nodded
his head turned
eyes on his wife’s

profile
sure sure
you said
controlling the slur

the beer taking hold
the old dame
seemed pleased
her husband gave

the Croft girl
another secret gaze
her tight *** moving
side to side

as she walked
the aisle
her friends departed
you watched her

with her bourgeoisie
life and ways
her small tight body
wrapped

like a dream
and the sale complete
the old couple
went away

through the business
of wallpaper
and paint
all of a Saturday.

It was the day after
I’d been to London
on a protest march
and Netanya said

I want you
to come
to my place
this afternoon

as I want to talk to you
my husband will be out
I was hesitant
not out

of any moral quandary
or in case
her husband found out
or that her kids

might come home
from school early
but because
I usually liked

to chill out
in the afternoon's
with a glass of scotch
and listen to Mahler

but I said
ok what time?
any time after 1pm
he's gone by then

she said
so forsaking
my scotch and Mahler
I walked around

to her place
and she let me
into her lounge
and offered me

tea or coffee
I took the coffee
and we sat on her sofa
and she talked

and I listened
then she took hold
of my pecker
and said

we could have ***
no one is here
no one need know
my pecker woke

from its slumbers
reluctantly
and lay
like a grumpy sailor

after a long voyage
not just now
I said
it wouldn't be right

besides daylight
isn't my best time
she looked at me
with her disappointed eyes

her hand
still holding the pecker
why not?
she said

what if your old guy
comes in
and we're going it some?
he won't

he never
comes home early
too keen on the skirts
at work

what if your kids
come home from school
and find me and you
in the process?

we'll be done by then
she said
I shook my head
and she went

to the record player
and put on
a Dolly Parton LP
and sat beside me again

my pecker still lay
slumped unhappily
another time maybe?
she said

sure
I said
only not here
not in your house

or bed
it doesn't seem right
she pulled
a face of discontent

where then?
your place?
no way
my mother

wouldn't like it
I said
where then?
Netanya said

London?
I said
London?
she repeated

go to London for ***?
we can take in a show
and find a cheap hotel
and tell your old man

you're going to London
with a friend
to see some show
and it will give you cover

she sighed
and sipped her coffee
I sipped mine too and gazed
at this middle-aged lover.

Hes gone. I heard the door go. Ingrid relaxes, her shoulders unwind, the nerves untense. Just wait; he may return. She waits, listens. He does that sometimes; returns and stands looking at me as if he cant decide about me. No sounds of him. Mum in the kitchen; pots and pans; water running, but not him. Ingrid stares behind her in case her father has sneaked in without her hearing him. No one. She bites her lower lip. That time shed thought hed gone and she turned and he was there and he walloped her one about the head saying she was looking at him evil eyed. She looks at the table; at her breakfast bowl and cereal. He would deny her even that some mornings. Been too naughty hed say and made Mum take it out and hed sit there eyeing her and if he thought she was making faces hed slap her leg. Hes gone. Relax. She begins to eat her cereal. Spoons it in slowly, just in case he comes in suddenly out of nowhere and whack and shed choke. Relax. Her mother in the kitchen washing up. Spoons in more cereal. She thinks of that time shed taken a biscuit from the jar and he said she was a thief and whacked her hard and made a big mark on her. Benny noticed. Benny knows. Her father hates Benny. Youre not to see that Benedict kid, her father said, if I see you with him youre for it. She sees him still. Were the same age, in the same class at school. Nine years old. She mouths in more cereal. Licks the spoon after. Looks at the photograph on the sideboard. Black and white. Five of them. Back then. Her father is at the back grim  as death, black suit and tie, white shirt. Mums next to him wide eyed and pale as death. That grey dress. Her big brother Tom at the front. Smiling. Gone now after that big argument with Dad last week. Sylvia my big sister sitting next to Tom. Gone last year with that Spiv. And me at the end glasses and buck teeth even then. A bang at the door. Whos that? Mumll go. Listens. Puts her spoon down. Bites her lip. Blinks. Maybe hes back forgot his keys. Blame me. Last time he did he blamed me. Said I hid them. Voices at the door. Not him then. She relaxes. Picks up the spoon. Eats a small mouthful. Nervous. Always am. Footsteps coming. Is it him? She puts down the spoon and stares at the doorway. Mum. Standing there a cigarette in her mouth; eyes ******* up against the smoke. That Benny boys here at the door. Benny? Here? Good job your fathers not here or thered be hell to pay, the mother says. What does he want? Says he wants to take you out. Ingrid looks at her bowl, fingers with the spoon. Can he come in a minute? Not good idea, what if your father returns unexpectedly? Just a few minutes while I eat my breakfast? The mother sighs. Have to be ****** quick in case your dad comes back for some reason. Then well both be for it. The mother goes out and disappears. Voices. The door closing. She hates the sound of the door closing. It usually means hes home. If hes singing or humming it means all is well, but if hes quiet and sullen then Im for it or sometimes Mum gets it first and me after. That sound. Door closing. She stares at the doorway. Benny appears smiling. His hair with the quiff; the hazel eyes. Coming out? He asks. Where are you going? He sits on the settee, looks around the room. Thought wed go to see a bit of art. Art? What paintings and that? He looks at the her. Yes, National Gallery. Costs nothing. She picks up her spoon and eats cereal, looking at him, listening for the door. How do we get there? Bus to Trafalgar Square. How much is the fare there? She asks. Not much for kids. He looks at the photograph on the sideboard. See your old man is as grim as ever. She licks the spoon for the last bits of cereal. She can hear her mother banging about in the kitchen. Will she tell Dad when he gets home? Hard to say. Well, are you coming? Benny asks, looking at the fireplace. You shouldnt have come here; my dad might have been here still. I saw the old ****** go, Benny says, watched him walk through the Square, Benny says with that grin of his. He might have come back, she says, putting down the spoon. Then what? Who knows? Benny says unconcerned. She gets up and walks towards him. He would have hurt me for you being here. He hurts you anyway. She feels uneasy. The bruise on her thigh is still there just under her dress. Ill ask Mum if I can go. He nods and smiles. If only she could smile like that. If only. Ill ask her. He looks at her go. She finds her mother sorting out washing for the copper. Can I go out with Benny? He still here? Ingrid nods. Yes. Where? See paintings. Where? National Gallery. Too far. Not far, Benny says, standing behind Ingrid at the door. Bus ride away. You shouldnt come here, the mother says. Not welcoming, Benny says. Not meant to be, the mother says. Ingrid bites her lip. Her stomach tightens. What shall I say? Will she tell? Her mother stare stares at her. On your head be it; I dont want to know. The mother turns away, sorts more washing. Got to go to toilet, Ingrid says. Ok, Benny says, Ill wait. Ingrid goes off to the toilet; locks the door. Benny stands by the door staring at the mother. Ingrid sits down. Her stomach churns. She listens for voices. Nothing. What if Dad comes back? She waits.  The bruise on her thigh is blue and black.

Jane fainted in the town
by the coach
on Saturday morning
and her mother

and other women
were around her
and you stood
a little way away

wondering what
had happened to her
I think it must be
that time of the month

you heard one woman say
maybe
her mother said
but she’s not usually

like this
she added
will she be all right?
you asked

bending down
next to one
of the women
who had gathered

her mother looked at you
and said
yes it happens
at certain times

of the month
oh right
you said
none the wiser

gazing at Jane
at her dark hair
her eyes closed
her features

white and sweaty
best give her some air
her mother said
and you all stood up

and her mother
fanned her
with her hat
then after a minute or so

Jane opened her eyes
and said
what happened?
I went all funny

and everything went white
you fainted
her mother said
waving the hat

in front of Jane’s face
I want to get up
Jane said
and so you

and her mother
helped her
to her feet
and she leaned

against the wall
of the bank
and looked around
she’ll be all right now

a woman said
it happens
another said
after a few minutes

they went off
to the shops
leaving you
and your mother

and Jane
and her mother
standing by the coach
I’ll be all right now

Jane said
ok
her mother said
and you all walked

along the street
to the shops
Jane walking behind
with you

her hand stealthily
reaching down
for yours and giving it
a little squeeze

then releasing it again
looking up at the sky
which had become dark
threatening rain.

There's a boy
at the door for you
Elaine's mother said
talking to Elaine
at the door of her room

what boy?
Elaine asked

he said his name was John
her mother said
looking unhappy
her voice strained

he's here?
Elaine asked

I’ve just said he is
her mother said

Elaine frowned
how did he know
where I lived?

how do I know
her mother said

where is he?
Elaine asked

by the front door
now get along
and see him
and then tell me
what is going on
her mother said

Elaine went down stars
to the front door
and there he was
the boy John
standing by the door

how did you know
where I lived?
she asked him
leaning by the door
unsure what to do
or say more than that

I asked someone
in the village
and they said here
I got the bus here
from my village
he added

O I see
she said
looking at his eyes
hazel and bright

well invite him in Elaine
don't need to stand
on the doorstep
the mother said

ok
Elaine said
and invited John in
and they walked
into the living room
where he was invited
to sit on the brown settee  

I’m Elaine's mother
and you are John?  

yes,I'm John
he said
we go to school together
he added
on the bus
he put in
after a few seconds silence

I see
the mother said

she sat in an armchair
opposite him
and Elaine sat
on the settee
beside John

Elaine's not mentioned
you before
the mother said
eyeing the boy seriously

O I see
he said
looking at Elaine

never thought to say
Elaine said
looking at her slippers

are you friends
at school?
the mother said

yes
he said
we are

Elaine looked
at her mother
hoping he wouldn't
mention the kiss
he'd given her

we share an interest
in birds and butterflies
he said
gazing at the mother

birds and butterflies?
the mother said

yes I bring my book
to school and we
exchange what
we've seen
he said

O I see
the mother said
unsure of the boy
but thinking
he seemed all right

can I get you
a drink of tea?
the mother asked

he looked at Elaine
then at the mother
yes that would be lovely
he said
one sugar if I may
he added

the mother nodded
and smiled
and went out
to the kitchen
leaving the two alone

why did you come here?
Elaine asked
looking at the boy

I wanted to see you
he said
and I didn't want to
wait until Monday
he added

O I see
she said
feeling uncertain
feeling unsure
what she should
say or do

you don't mind do you?
I didn't think
I came on impulse
I don't usually
but I couldn't get you
out of my mind
he said

really?
she said
a smile lingering
on her lips
but not breaking out

yes
he said
ever since you got off
the bus on Friday
I’ve been like this
and he leaned forward
and planted
a gentle kiss.

He broke down
when his wife said
the baby in her
womb had died.

He seldom cried,
once when his father
was plucked with cancer,
another when he

thought she’d given
him the elbow before
he’d proposed, and
some kid stuff way back.

But this was a gut ripping
feel, as if some dark
hand had torn through
him and pulled at heart

and guts, no if or buts.
After she’d said it, her
words chiselled deep,
through bone and skin,

deep down within, and
he pictured the baby,
once kicking, moving
tiny hands and fingers,

pushing its closed eyes
against womb’s wall,
mouthing words unheard,
unknown, small not yet

grown, now, he imagined
still unmoving maybe
floating, he didn’t know,
just thought things. His

other babies had come
and grown and climbed
and spoke, but not this
one, there was the rub,  

there the choke. Górecki’s
Symphony no 3 was in
the background piping
through the speakers, he

had walked off to be alone,
the window showed trees,
the lawn, birds, sky, him
and Górecki, the music and
his own gut wrenching moan.

The bus pulled away
and when you looked back
she had gone
you searched where

she had stood
until the bus turned
a corner and the scene
had changed

and you turned to the front
and sat wounded
and deflated
the evening sky

drawing in
the bus nigh on empty
except for you
and a few others

she said she had another
some guy from work
engaged now
and that was that

said kindly as such
but to your mind
and heart too much
and searched back

to the old days
the days when it all
seemed fresh
as fish just caught

that time by the pond
when she was late
and you wondered
if she'd come

and sat gazing across
the water's skin
seeing ducks and birds
and butterflies

but not her
and then she appeared
and was there
breathless and smiling

and saying
she had had to run
something about her mother
wanting chores done

and she sat beside you
and her arm looped yours
and she pulled you close
and kissed your cheek

and talked and talked
her head against your arm
and you listened
but half only

as you wanted to drink her in
each aspect of her
each particle of her being
her scent

her hair against you
the sound of voice
the tone
her hands across yours

her legs slightly uncovered
the shoes half off her feet
and o
she said

thought I'd not make it
thought you'd be gone
no not me
you said

always wait for you
and she smiled
and the sun was coming
through the trees

seeping through branches
dancing with leaves
or that other time
in the tall clover

near the run down cottage
she laying there
peasant like
semi clad

you lying beside her
hands on her thighs
that sweet spark
in her eyes

and what would mother say
if seeing such
she said
there in clover

not in bed
her talk of nature things
of butterflies or birds
or how her father's cigarette

hung from his lower lip
as he spoke
almost choking
in smoke

then the bus drew
into the town
and you saw
the empty shops

and street lights
and people walking home
or to the cinema
couples arm in arm

or holding hands
which took you back
to the old times
and dream lands.

She had dried His feet
with her hair. She’d not
forgotten that. Not long
after she’d seen the same

feet nailed and bloodied
to the wooden down beam.
Her tears had helped wash
them, those feet, she later

remembered the tingle she
had felt as her long hair
dried them, something in
touching, emptied her of

self and opened up her
darker self. Had He seen
more than others, understood
what others were blind to,

forgave what others condemned?
That moment, His feet in
her hands, touching her hair,
her hands. His eyes spoke to

her, His words pinpricked her,
each sin (as others saw them)
scabbed over as he went by,
His shadow kind of healed her.

She knew that now, not then
so much, after His demise (or
so seemed) and the placing in
that tomb, she felt letdown,

emptied, like after some dark
passage ***. But she’d seen
Him after, the feet healed,
the holes unbloodied, His

voice soothed her inner coil
keyed up tight. But mostly she
recalled the washing of His feet
on that warm moon filled night.

Jane’s mother gave you both
a towel from the airing cupboard

after you had been caught
in the rain

running from the church porch
to the parsonage

and then she went off
to carry on

with her pie making
and Jane took you

along the hallway
to her bedroom

and opened the door
and after you had entered

she closed the door
with a soft click

and you both stood there
in the quiet room

rubbing you heads
with the towels

pushing away
the wetness

from your hair
and you smelt the room

the smell of polish
the lavender scent

the smell
of fresh linen

and smell of the flowers
outside caught still

in the rain
and Jane said

You are only here
because she trusts you

she seems to see through
people’s veneer

and weighs them
in the scales

in her mind
and you stood still

rubbing your hair
looking at her

the way she had
the towel in her hands

over her hair
the hair all messed up

and she having
that sparkle in her eyes

like the first spear
of the sunshine

pushing through
the window at dawn

and she gazed at you
with her eyes

like polished marbles
and her words

hung there
on the air

like musical notes
on an invisible stave

and you said
I’m glad she trusts me on

just the one look
and Jane smiled

and kissed your lips
her flesh on yours

and the pressing
of skin on skin

and she gently
moved away

and pointed to the sky
and said

Looks like more rain
and you just nodded

wanting her to kiss you
once again.

There was fresh flowers
on the grave
that Jane showed you
outside the small church  

the sun was warm
and cows
were just over
the hedge surrounding

you could hear them
munching the grass
and trotting by
unconcerned by death

or the symbols
of death
and Jane said
the tractor fell

on top of him
the other month
you stared
at the flowers laid there

colourful
bright in the sunlight
a small glass vase
holding a smaller bunch

child picked maybe
they'll have to
move out now
that he's dead

it being
a tied cottage
she said
and you could see

the sadness
in her features
the tearful eyes
mouth slightly open

words like
broken china pieces
where will they go
the mother and children?

you asked
the local council
will house them
I expect

she said
she gazed at the grave
and bent
and picked up

a small flower
from the nearby grass
and laid it
by the other flowers

God bless him
in His peace
she said softly
the cows

stilled munch
over the hedge
a bird called
from the hedgerow

you looked at her
standing there
a blue ribbon
in her dark hair

her green top
and black skirt
knee length
sad end

you said
yes
one of the dangers
of farming

she said quietly
she moved away
and you followed
and she held out a hand

and you took it
and went
into the small church
and sat

in one of the pews
inside and stared
at the stained glass windows
sunlight pouring in

like liquid gold
touching
the flagstone floor
and pew end

at the front
and her hand
still held yours
warm

alive
blood pumping
along arteries
life and living

and she and you
and outside
he sleeping
in his God's peace

and the cows
munching the grass
and birds calling
from hedgerows

and sky
and always
with you
the eternal why.

What would
your mother say
Sutcliffe

if you caught her
at it
with your old man?

O'Brien said
Davis chuckled
into his sleeve

at what?
Sutcliffe asked
giving

his blue eyed stare
having it off
O'Brien said

you noticed prefects
at the school gate
ready to haul off

those who were late
having what off?
Suttcliffe said

eyes larger
his blonde
cropped hair

convict style
*** ***
you stupid *******

O'Brien said
running his
ink stained hand

over Eddie's head
Davis lowered his gaze
at the school gate

you eyed
the tall prefect
with acne

and a pretend
moustache
who stared you back

with evil stare
o'
Eddie said

I see what you mean
o she'd slap me silly
if I saw that

you all went through
the school gate
just on time

not a moment late
wondering how silly
Suttcliffe could get

and how often
he'd seen
or when

or where
and when
you looked back

the acne prefect
still gave
his evil stare.

It was Shlomit
who fell from the seesaw
in the park

and grazed her knee
and elbow
Baruch who

was on the other end
jumped off
and helped her up

trying to console her
patting her
on the back

as she leaned over
dabbing at
her bloodied knee

and crying said
look at the hole
in my jumper

o my God
Mum’s going to **** me
o look at my knee

Baruch took her
to the old dame
who took shelter

in the first aid place
and sorted out
minor injuries

there there
the old dame said
we’ll soon put that right

and took Shlomit in
and sat her on one
of the chairs

and got out
her first aid box
and cleaned off

the dirt and wound
with some yellow stuff
which made Shlomit

cringe and cry  
o my my
said the old dame

its hurts
but it cleans out
the baddies

Baruch watched helpless
taking in
the lopsided

hair band
on Shlomit’s head
the blood red

jumper sleeve
the grazed knee
the old dame

wiping it clean
Shlomit in tears
looking up at him

her glasses crooked
o my God
what will Daddy say?

she uttered
o he’ll understand
the old dame said

don’t think he will
Baruch thought
he isn’t that type

of guy
leather her
most probably

he mused
watching the old dame’s fingers
putting on white lint

and placing pink plasters
over the top
to keep it on

now the elbow
the dame said
pulling up

Shlomit’s jumper sleeve
the elbow was badly grazed
the hole of the jumper

stuck to the wound
take hold
of her hand

Sonny
the old dame said
this might hurt

so Baruch took hold
of Shlomit’s hand
and watched

as the old dame
cleaned up
the elbow

with the yellow liquid
and cotton wool
Shlomit’s small hand

grabbed his own
the fingers
with bitten nails

clung tight to his own
he noticed she swung
her legs back and forth

under the chair
the plastered knee
came in and out

of sight
the window brought in
and allowed to fall

upon her knees
the bright morning light.

On Yehudit’s
first weekend off
from work
she met you

by the field
near the stables
arriving in her
cotton dress of green

and that raincoat
left over from school
and she said
been waiting long?

no not long
you said
although you’d been there
ten minutes or more

feeling the cold
bite into your skin
couldn’t get away
Mum wanted

this done and that
she said
leaning against
the fence

thought you might
have changed your mind
you said
why would I ?

she rubbed her hands together
to warm off the cold
said I’d be here
and I keep my word

she said
you sensed her uncertainty
the words sticking
in your mouth

we used to be closer
she said
none of this distance
between us

she knew about
you and Yiska
knew what there was
to know

the fact that Yiska had gone
made no difference
betrayal had been done  
she sat on the fence

and looked out
at the frost covered grass
you sat on the fence
beside her

her knees showed
where her dress
had risen
she had a laddered stocking

what was she like?
Yehudit asked
I mean did
she kiss good?

you looked
at the laddered stocking
flesh showed
yes she was good

you said
did she let you?
she asked
let me what?

you said
looking away
from the stocking
your eyes

meeting hers
you know let you do it?
she said
pushing the words out stiffly

as if the frost
had got to them
does it matter?
it’s history now

you said
it matters to me
she said
her voice

getting tighter
she looked
at the field
green and white

I guess it does
you said
we didn’t anyway
there wasn’t the place

or opportunity
you added
watching rooks
in the grey sky

their calls
filling the air
Yehudit looked at you
her eyes glassy

but you wanted to
she said
even if you didn’t
you breathed in

the icy air
you remembered
that you and she
had made love

in some woods
back behind you
the evening
had been warm then

flesh to flesh
heart sensing heart
I’ve met someone at work
she said

breaking through
your thoughts
I wanted you to know
not discover

and feel betrayed
you sensed a loss
bite you
a falling away

beneath your feet
I’m pleased for you
you lied
she climbed off

the fence
her feet sinking
into the frosted grass
see you around

she said
and walked off
across the field
you watched her go

sensing the cold
and the falling of snow.

On the one and only
Bright day she attempted
To escape from the locked
Ward of the small mental

Hospital in her short
Black dress and red slippers,
With her dull black hair, long,
Untidy and unbrushed,

She was roughly wrestled
To the ground of the long
Brightly lit corridor
Outside, by some burly

Hunk of a male nurse who
Smelt of ****, and as he
Pinned her down, she gazed up
Into his big brown eyes,

And saw the images
Of herself reflected
Like some broken doll or
Some beat up gangster’s moll.

The road up from the farm
the smell of cattle
the sound of them
calling across the fields

and you and Jane
having helped
weigh milk
and feed the cows

took a steady walk
up towards the Downs
the sky blue
the clouds white

the trees
above your heads
crows and rooks
calling downwards

you are doing well
Jane said
for a London boy
anyone would have thought

you've been a country boy
all your life
you smiled
well I just get stuck in

you said
when you haven't got
any cinemas or shops
near by you have to find

some way
to occupy your brain
I've even taken up
bird watching

with a cheap book
I picked up in town
when the bus
took us there last week

she looked happy
her dark eyes
lit up by
the sunlight

her dark hair
well brushed
reflected
the light of sun

she wore that blue dress
with the solitary flower
(the one her gran
had bought)

you liked the way
she walked beside you
the calm manner
as if she'd known you

all her life
I heard you got in a fight
at school on your first day
she said out of the blue

yes
you said
in the greenhouse
with Nigel

he said he didn't like Londoners
and I said too bad
he pushed me
and I socked him

and there it was
but you're friends now?
she asked
o yes after that

we got along ok
you said
what didn't he like
about Londoners?

she asked
he said his parents
said Londoners smelt
and had fleas

and so forth
she frowned  
where did they get
that idea?

they had evacuees
during the War apparently
you said
you reached the hollow tree

by the side
of the track
up the Downs
and entered in

and sat on the ledge
this she called
her secret hideout
few people know it's here

she said
I used to come here
and sit and think
she added

you thought
of the last time
you'd come here
it had rained

and you had run in
out of the downpour
and she had kissed you
and then sat back

surprised by what
she had done
and you both sat there
in silence

until she spoke casually
about the church nearby
and how small it was
and how you both must

go there sometime
there was no rain this time
she sat there
next to you

looking at you uncertain
can I kiss you?
you asked
she looked away

and downwards
then nodded
and lifted her face to you
your lips touched

and you kissed
it was a long kiss
eyes closed
hands touching

bodies near
then you both
broke away
we mustn't tell anyone

she said
we're only 13
and they wouldn't understand
of course not

you said
my lips are sealed
she smelt of apples
her eyes

were searching you
her hand
still touched yours
I'll show you

where the sheep wool
gets stuck
on the barbed wire
at the top

she said
and so you climbed
out the hollow tree
back on the dry

mud track
the rooks above you
the sunlight
on your back.

He always thought
hers was a peasant's body
not as a critique
but by something

about the simplicity
of the way she walked
or stood or the way
she lay on the double bed

one hand resting
on her naked abdomen
her brown haired head
on a pillow at rest

the way one leg
was raised
one flat down
on the bed

the small area
of ***** hairs
he was by the window
of his bedroom

looking at the garden below
then up along the road
the afternoon sun
settling on the trees

aren't you coming
back to bed?
she said
still not satiated ?

he said smiling
sensing his pecker move
not of you
she said

or of Percy
if he's willing
he sniggered
at her nickname

for his pecker
the green bus went by
along the road
good God

he said
that's her bus
whose?
she said

my mother's bus
she’ll be here
in a few minutes  
she lay there

open mouthed
uncertain of what
to say or do
you'll have to get up

and we'll go
before she wonders
what we were doing
up here

he said
she moved from the bed
as if in a daze
her nakedness complete

her ******* bobbing
her hands searching
around for her clothes
he moved faster

hurrying his dressing
taking quick glimpses
through the window
his mother was not

in view
he took a glance
at his lover
semi dressed

hair in a mess
her naked buttocks
disappearing
into cloth

he loved that final glimpse
of nakedness
that final sight
of bare flesh

his mother was in sight
along the road
quick
he said

downstairs
and she grabbed
her stockings
and shoes

and followed him
down the stairs
two at a time
her bare feet

sensing the cold floor
through the kitchen
and out the back door
along the brick pathway

he closed the door
and locked
and put the key
back under the mat

and speedily
followed his lover
into the woods
the ground prickling

beneath his feet
and she smiling
out of breath
hiding behind

the old shed
putting on her stockings
and he wondering
how it may have been

if his mother
had caught them
making love
and their nakedness seen.

Fay met Buruch
by the entrance to the Square,
waiting by the wall,
eyes tearful,
fair hair in disarray.

She had shopping in her arms,
hands holding bread rolls
close to her breast.
Buruch took in her eyes,
the hair unkempt, unusual.

You ok? He asked.
They are rowing again, she said.
Who? He asked.
The parents, she said.

You got to take that home?
He asked pointing to the shopping
in her arms.

Yes, she said, I dropped the last rolls
and he sent me out for more,
after hitting me,
after the rows began again.

I’ll walk back with you, he said.
They walked to the stairs
and climbed up side by side.

Don’t you have shopping to get?
She asked.
I can get it later, he said, no rush.

They reached her landing
and he waited
while she went in the door.
Loud voices, shouts, crying.

He waited, hands in pockets,
wondering how she was,
wishing he could knock
and ask her out.

He waited,
looked over the balcony,
looked back at the door.

He knocked the door.
The door opened.
Fay’s father stood there.
What you want kid? He said.

Can Fay come out to play? Buruch asked.
The father stood staring,
hands by his sides.

Who wants to know?
I do, Buruch said.
She’s busy, the father said,
got things to do.

All day? Buruch asked.
If I say so, the father said.
Buruch stood staring,
hands in pockets,
head to one side.

So she’s not coming out? He said.
The father sighed.
Do your parents know
you pester people?
Buruch said,
Yes, pretty much.

The father said, beat it kid.
I’ll wait, Buruch said,
touching his toy 6 shooter
in the holster at his side.

You’ll have a long wait,
the father said.
Buruch leaned against the wall,
pushed the cowboy hat at a tilt.

Ain’t you that Jewish kid
from downstairs?  The father said.
Aren’t you the Catholic
who beats his wife and kid?

The father stood full stretch,
his eyes darkening,
his hands becoming fists.

Scram kid before I beat you,
the father said.
Buruch pulled out
his 6 shooter.

Touch me and I’ll fill you
full of lead, Buruch said.
The father closed his eyes,
then closed the door.

Buruch waited;
more loud voices and cries,
as were before.

The tree still stands
Where he kissed May
Mitewing that summer.

Dead now or dying the
Tree, but stands like a
Landmark to that kiss

And time and all that
Followed. What had
Happened to May after

That summer he couldn’t
Say, she went east with her
Parents, her old man some

Big Wheel in the business
Circus of things, and she
Tainted by what they did

After the kiss, the hay barn
**** and she panicking
She’d missed a flood, but

It all came well after a few
Days later and he having
Sweated that out in his

Room, felt relief come like
******* *****. He looks
At the tree now, remembering

Where once green leaves were,
Broken fingers and arms of
Branches are. He places his

Hand on the bark, senses
Where her tight *** was
Pressed and how the lips met

And he putting his hand on
Her waist, loving her young
Girl tongue taste. He has no

Idea where May is now or
If she lives or is dead or if
She remembers him and

The tree and kiss or hay
Barn romp, just touching
The tree, feeling the rough

Bark and wood, brings it
All back, all memory now,
Where they’d once stood.

Sutcliffe brings
a magazine
to school
(his old man's
he tells us)
and we group in
under the shelter
near the outside bogs.

He opens it
page by page;
his fingers shaky,
his eyes, blue,
enlarged,
peer the page.

Look at the state
of her,
O’Brien says.

I look over
his shoulder
at the naked dame.

Can you imagine
Miss A doing this
from our old school?
I suggest.

Don't make me puke,
O’Brien says.

What the ****'s that?
Sutcliffe asks,
pointing a finger.

It's where
you were born from,
Davies says.

Can't be,
Sutcliffe says,
I was born
in Guy's hospital.

Your mother,
poor cow,
has one of those,
O’Brien says.

Sutcliffe pulls a face
as if he'd bitten
a lemon.

Shan't look at her
the same way again,
he replies.

Turn the page,
I say,
see something other.

He turns the page,
a centrefold,
opens it out,
arms outstretched,
eyes widening.

Wouldn’t say no
to her,
O’Brien says,
scanning in
like a swooping air plane
to dive bomb.

Me, neither,
Sutcliffe mutters.

I see Sutcliffe's
inky fingers shake
on the edges
of the magazine;
the woman has big eyes
peering out,
her nose has an air
of: had your gawk?
We just stare,
no place
to waste words,
we stand,
open mouthed
and don’t talk.

On my way
to the shop
across the road
down the concrete stairs

of the flats
I saw Ingrid
sitting on a step
a floor down

from mine
what you
doing here?
I asked

I dropped
a pink of milk
on the way back
from the shop

and now
my dad'll **** me
I daren't go home
I looked at her

sitting there
old grey dress
matty hair
well you can't

sit here all day
your mum
will wonder
where you are

she looked at me
wide eyed
I know
but I can't

go home
until he's gone
to work or I’m for it
how long ago

did you drop it?
15 minutes or so
down by the *****
I thought

of the broken glass
and messy milk
wait here
I’ll talk

with my mum
so I went back
upstairs to our flat
and spoke to Mum

and she gave me
an extra bit of money
to get another
bottle of milk

so I went down
the stairs
and said
come on

let's get
another bottle
how?
she asked

my mum
gave me
some money
to get another

but be careful
this time
she smiled
her goofy smile

and we went down
the stairs and out
through the Square
and down the *****

to the shop
passed
the broken bottle
and spilt milk

and the morning sun
was coming over
the factory
beside the fresh fish shop

and we got
my mother's shopping
and another pint
and never spilt a drop.

Enid holds
the wee in
focusing

nothing else
not Miss A
in the class

history
being taught
about kings

or their queens
matters now
just the need

right now to
urinate
her eyes strain

to focus
on the floor
on a foot

someone's shoe
a chair leg
on Miss A

standing there
by the board
but Enid

wants to go
to the door
but too late

small wet patch
on the floor.

Yehudit likes
the new boy
on the bus
she smiled has

he got on and
watched him walk
to the back
of the school bus

and sit in
a side seat
now she sits
at the front

of the bus
thinking about him
now and then
she looks back

over her shoulder
but he's looking out
the window
not at her

so she looks
forward again
musing on
what his name maybe

and whether he'll
be the type
she wants or likes
he looks good

the quiff of brown hair
the hazel eyes
-she gawked him good
as he got on board-

and he had that
Elvis smile
-feels goosebumps-
she thrusts her hands

between her thighs
and smiles to herself
in anticipation
scenery goes by

trees
hedges
fields
cows in the field

telegraph poles
birds in flight
in the sky
but all she

can think on is
what is his name?
and wondering
if he is looking

at her now
but she guesses
not somehow.

After Friday school
after two boring lessons
with Mr Finn
you went home

with Janice for tea
and to see
her gran's new canary
and she told you

the blue one
had died
and her gran
had bought

a new one
and you told her
about the Ivanhoe book
you'd bought

out of your pocket money
about this Saxon
and King Richard 1
and you said

your old man
had made you a sword
out of metal
at his work place

and painted it blue
and you wore it
through your elastic belt
with the snake buckle

and she listened politely
as she always did
even if she was bored
which she probably was

and when you got
to her gran's place
she took you in
and her gran said

glad you could come
I saw your mother
the other day
and she said it was ok

for you to come
and Janice showed you
the new canary
in the cage

hanging from the holder
over by the window
and she asked her gran
if she could get

the bird out
and her gran said
she could but be careful
it don't fly away

and so Janice let
the canary out
of the cage
and it flew around

the room a few times
then settled on
her red beret
and started pecking

at it
what's the bird called?
you asked
Gran's started calling it yellow

Janice said
because its colour
is yellow
you watched the bird

pecking at her beret
and her eyes looked upwards
and she held out a finger
and the bird flew down on it

and perched there
and she stroked its beak
and then after a while
she put it back

in its cage  
and shut the door
and her gran said
what would you like for tea?

and you said
bread and jam
would be fine
and a mug of tea

to go with it
and her gran said
is that all?
nothing cooked?

Janice said she was having
scrambled egg on toast
and some rice pudding
for afterwards

and so you said
ok that sounded good
and her gran went off
and you sat with Janice

and she turned on the radio
and listened
to some classical music
which bored the hell

out of you
but at least
you were with Janice
and she smiled

and looked at you
all kind of seriously
and you liked her red beret
and her white blouse

and grey skirt
and her fair hair
touching her shoulders
and her thin fingers

reaching out
and touching your
slightly ink-stained ones
and she talked

of the names
of the children
she was going to have
when she grew up

and how many
boys and girls
she was going to have
and you nodded

and took nothing in
except the beauty
of her lips as she spoke
and her gran called

from the kitchen
lay the table ready Janice
and she got up
leaving your fingers

to tingle
which you guessed
was nice.

She missed him
in her bed

missed the smell of him
the indentation

in the pillow
where his head lay

the silly
romantic things

he used to say
the kisses

on her body
every place

ending
on her face

but it wasn't
just the kisses

or the *** she missed
or the way

he fired her up
on entering her

the way
he did each time

no
she missed of all things

the deep joy
he brought

the kind
that only

happiness brings
she turned over

and gazed at the pillow
where his head

once lay
the missing indentation

the dark hair or two
the sight of him

smiling back
after having ***

another time
(he was never slack)

she felt
his absence

more so then
no ghostly smiles

or gazes
just the white

dumb pillow
laying there

smooth and silent
like a sleeping sheep

she ran her finger
along the bed

where once
his body lay

that is where
his **** would be

and there
is where

we made love
that last day

before his death
took him away

she sighed
the echo of it

filling the room
spreading out

each bit of space
sometimes

she thinks
he's still kissing her

first her body
then her face.