Chanan closes his book.
His companion
has gone sightseeing.
The coffee is drunk.

The day is fine, the sky
a watery blue,
pale clouds drift.

He sits and meditates
on another coffee,
another cigarette,
watching passing crowds,
visitors and natives
of Dubrovnik.

He raises a finger,
a waiter nods,
goes off.

Chanan notices
across the way,
at another table,
a woman sitting,
hat red
at an angle,
slim fingers holding
a holder with cigarette,
the red lips,
the blue dress,
cleavage,
crossed legs,
red shoes.

He studies her,
takes in the hand
on knee, the hand
with holder,
the fine way
of inhaling
and exhaling,
the smoke drifting.

She leans back,
sky gazing,
in between drags
she sips her wine.

He takes in
the fine figure,
the turn of head,
the shoes of red.

He imagines her
(while his companion
is out seeking the sights)
coming to his room
at the hotel,
soft music playing,
lights down low,
wine bottle and glasses,
the usual patter,
the romantic air,
the twin bed waiting.

His coffee comes,
the waiter departs,
the woman stands
as a man approaches,
dark haired,
slim figured,
trimmed beard,
well dressed,
an air of affluence.

They go off
arm in arm,
she wiggling
her hot behind,
her red shoes,
tap-tapping.

Chanan stumps out
his cigarettes,
sips his coffee,
nothing ends
like it seems,
he is left
with an empty evening
and a lonely dream.

Yiska pares her nails,
files away
along the top
in a focused motion.

Her fingers grip
the nail file,
her eyes are looking
at the Indian woman
sitting cross legged
on the sofa,
mumbling to herself.

Naaman watches
them both, standing
by the door
of the ward
his dressing gown open,
the cloth belt confiscated.

The morning sun shows
smears on the windowpane,
the kid who comes each day
in care, stands there
licking like some cat.

A book of philosophy
is wedged in Naaman's
dressing gown pocket,
a torn off cardboard lid
of a Smarties pack
is the marker,
he's on the Spinoza page.

Yiska puts the file
in the pocket
of her nightgown
and stares at her nails,
bringing her fingers up
for close inspection.

A nurse passes by
and holds out her hand
towards Yiska.

You ought not have
that file,
she says.

Why not?
Yiska says.

Some might use it
to cut open their wrists,
the nurse says.

Yiska gives up
the nail file reluctantly,
staring at the nurse,
who walks off
towards the ward office
to lock away the file.

The Indian woman
puts her hands on her knees,
closes her eyes.

Naaman sits next
to Yiska and says,
Nothing's sacred here.

She's right though,
Yiska says,
someone may
have used it
to dig open their wrists.

I would have done,
after he left me
at the altar
on our wedding day.

I'd have slit my wrists
or neck or any place,
if it had got me
out of this hell hole
of a world.

I'd not have left you
at the altar,
Naaman says.

But he did,
she says,
laying her head
on his shoulder,
wiping her nose
on the back
of her hand.

Naaman studies her feet
which are bare,
no slippers or socks.

She has folded her legs
beneath her
so that her feet
stick out at the end,
her knees showing
where the nightgown ends.
After the last ECT,
Naaman woke in
the same side room,
she after him,
on another bed.

He had seen her there,
spread out
in her white nightgown
as in a shroud,
eyes shut,
mouth open,
teeth showing.

When she woke,
she said,
I hate that treatment,
gives me a fecking headache.
Me, too,
he said.

She stared at him,
her eyes opening wide.
Sit me up,
she said,
or I'll puke.

He got off the bed
and helped sit her up.

She sat on the edge
of the bed and said,
Thanks, you're a life saver.
She kissed his forehead.

The Indian woman picks
at her toes with her fingers,
her forehead is lined,
her black greying hair
is tied behind her head
in a knot of cloth.

Yiska laughs.
You certainly gave
the nurses a joint heart attack
last week
with your hanging attempt
in the boghouse.

Dark place at the time,
Naaman says.

She nods.
Like headless chicken
they were, she says.
I tried to OD,
but I was found too soon,
she adds.

The kid at the window
turns round.
He pokes his tongue out
at them both.
Naaman had bopped him
the other day
when he pinched
Yiska's arm.
Short memory, I guess,
Naaman thinks.

The big day nurse
comes in with morning
teas and coffees,
his broad smile
and jovial voice
brighten the day.

Yiska's hand lies
on Naaman's thigh,
he hopes
it will never leave,
but always stay.

On the road
from Madrid to Malaga
you sat next to Miryam
in the coach

the scenery going by
the Spanish sun above
music from the radio
and she beside you

her head
against your shoulder
sleeping
her red hair

a mass of curls and waves
her eyes closed
her mouth slightly open
her hands crossed

in her lap
you sitting there
thinking of the base camp
in Madrid

the bar and *****
the music
in the small disco
and dancing

to the small hours
and she said
about her parents
and she being

for the first time
free to do
what she wanted
and she walked with you

back to her tent
and there she stood
and said
if I was alone

in this tent
I'd invite you in for ***
but I'm sharing
with another girl

and so did you share
with another guy
you said
wishing it otherwise

and so she kissed you
good night
and unzipped the tent
and went in

and off you walked
through the early morning dark
crossing the field of tents
trying to remember

where yours was
remembering it was by
the hedge with Bob's flag
on top waving silently

in the semi-dark
she stirred
against your shoulder
and readjusted her head

making that
I'm comfortable sound
and then she was off again
a Beatles's song

on the radio
someone sang along
you still sensing
that kiss of hers

her lips on yours
the night before
her hands
around your waist

her small ****
pressing against you
the smell of oranges
and ripe fruit

and her tongue invading
your mouth
touching yours
and your pecker stirring

from slumber
your hands on her ****
feeling the pockets
of her jeans

the smooth material
the studs
her near you
lips and tongues

and she stirred
and opened her eyes
and lifted her head
from your shoulder

and said
are we there yet?
no
you said

getting near
and she looked out
the window of the coach
and you studied

her profile
the blush of cheek
the nose
her neck

and the show
of naked shoulder
and she said
did I snore?

no  
you said
good
she said

because sometimes
I tend to go off
into snoring land
and she smiled

and touched your thighs  
and all you saw
was the blue world
of her cool blue eyes.

Reach for the sky
Ingrid said
as you and she
swung on the swings

in Jail Park
your feet pointed skyward
your hands gripping
the metal linked rings

the wooden seat
beneath you
and the sky
was a fine

summery blue
clouds were white
as engine puffed smoke
and you said

my old man
nicked money
from my blue
money box

I never saw him
I just heard him
early this morning
with the rattling

as he used a knife
to eject the coins
Ingrid gaped at you
as she swung

beside you
how much
did you have in there?
she asked

couple of quid
I expect
you said
now it's lighter

and rattles emptier
why did he do that?
she asked
you pushed your feet higher

and bent forward
on the swing's chains
and up you went
reaching for the sun

he needed it
for a packet of cigarettes
I guess
you said

but that's thieving
she said
he'd say
it was liberating

coins for a purpose
of need
you smiled
has a way with words

if not much else
you said
you studied Ingrid
as she swung at your side

her black scuffed shoes
the grey once white socks
the sleeveless
stained flowery dress

which came to the knees
her dark hair
pinned back
with the metal grips

her thin wired spectacles
with her large eyes
staring at you
if I'm ever given money

she said
for birthday
or whatever
my dad takes it

and says I've been
too bad to have it
once he almost broke
my fingers open

to take coins
I was gripping
you tut-tutted
and looked away

as you rose higher
the trees of the park
and bushes
seemed miles

beneath you
and the other kids
on the see-saws
and ropes and sandpit

or on the tall
metal slide
seemed so small
and you remembered the time

Ingrid fell off
the ropes
and grazed her knees
and you helped her up

and helped her hobble
to the first-aid room
near the toilets
and the stern

middle aged woman
in charge there
helped her into the room  
and sat her on a chair

and you stood there staring
made a mess of these knees
ain't you deary
the woman said

best get you cleaned up
and she used cotton wool
and some purple smelly stuff  
to clean away

the stones and dirt
and blood
and as she lifted the leg
she saw a blue green bruise

on Ingrid's thigh
you have been in the wars
the woman said
with a shake

of her blonde
haired head
not wars
you thought

her old man's belt
more like
but never said
and Ingrid cried still

her face red
the woman's plump pink fingers
cleaning the knees
the blood seeping through

the cotton wool
and you
just standing there
giving it

your concerned
and boyish stare.

You could hear her
calling your name
along the passage
her Polish kind

of broken English
was unmistakable
you hid by the sink
of Mr Atkinson's room

the other side
of the panel
which hid you
from view

from the door
Benedict are you up here?
Sophia called
you leaned back

as far as you could
in case she should
open the door
and peer in

you could hear
her flip-flops
on the linoleum floor
I want you

she said
want you
speak to me
you noticed Mr Atkinson's

Rupert annual
on the dresser
across the room
(he had a child's mind

and loved those books)
you also noticed
a glimpse of your refection
in the dresser's mirror

black trousers
white coat
red tie
and white shirt

she'd stopped outside
the door of Mr Cutler's room
she knocked
and opened

Benedict are you here?
no
you whispered
in undertone voice

where the **** are you?
you heard her say
she closed Mr Cutler's door
and waited outside

the room you were in
you sensed her breathing
her tap tap on the door
you squeezed yourself

hard against the sink
last time she'd caught you
up here on the old men's wing
she had you

on Mr Haymaker's bed
her slim 19 year old body
wrapped about you
her blonde hair tied

in a black bow
her body saying
go go go
Benedict are you here?

you shook your head
hands behind your back
your backside pushed hard
against the enamel sink

I want talk to you
she said
she opened the door
and looked in

out of the window opposite
you you could see trees
swaying in the breeze
the sky grey blue

she came into the room
and picked up
the Rupert annual
from the dresser

you saw her blue uniform
the back of her slim body
the narrowed waist
the shapely backside

the well shaped legs
her blonde hair
tied at the back
with the familiar ribbon

you bit your lip
and held your breath
she scanned through
the annual

flicking pages
gazing at pictures
if she gazed
in the dresser mirror

she'd see your reflection
Benedict
she said to herself
I've red underwear on

you stopped breathing
stared at her back
the way she stood
she put down

the annual
on the dresser
retreated back out
of the room

not turning to look
around the room
the door closed
you heard her flip-flops

move away
along the passageway
no one would believe you
if you told them

and whatever they may say
you had escaped
from Sophia
for another day.

Time at the moment is pretty fluid it wraps itself about you like a warm fur coat and snuggles close to you the minutes ticking ever so slowly the seconds taking their pace like wrinkly old folks crossing roads and the cigarette lit and you drawing in the smoke the inhalation a big thrill a big relief after the kids are off to school and Buck’s out on the road with his job and all and you just wanting the moment to be prolonged beyond the usual process of time wanting to be able to stretch out and just take in the moment now the scent from your skin the cigarette smell the nicotine the smoke the sounds of the birds outside the window the sounds of the traffic along the back road the ability at that moment to just lounge there and feel the chair beneath your *** the hardness of it the smoothness of it as you move your *** back and forth and taking another drag on the cigarette you want to heave it back into your lungs and let it settle there let the smoke filter into your head  and heart and soul and if Buck was there with you and not on the road trying to sell those **** brushes and brooms and washing junk you and he could make out up in the bedroom and not have to worry if the kids came in or overheard or you could be on the floor in the front room and making as much sounds as you **** well liked and not having to think of the kids saying what’s up Mommy Daddy hurting you again? Thinking of that time when you and Buck were going strong and you guess the noise was getting kind of loud and little Pips comes into the semi dark and says Mommy are you ok? What’s happening? And you had to hush her and read her a story until she had gone to sleep again and Buck had gone to sleep by the time you got back and you were left heated and wanting and him asleep and you burning for it but now you are alone with the smoke and the scent and hard chair supporting your **** and remembering the day a few weeks back when that salesman came to the porch selling hardware and giving it the hard sell and you the eye and looking beyond you wondering if there was anyone at home apart from you and you looking at him thinking what would he be like if he and you made it on the sofa the flower patterned sofa that you bought with Buck’s mother’s money she left us and wondering if he had it in him after giving you the big sell and the usual yak but you pushed the though out of your mind as pips was home from school that day having the ***** and if she hadn’t maybe you might have but that was that and you didn’t and he didn’t and you didn’t even buy a single *** from him not so much as small knife and coming back to the moment to the cigarette between fingers the smoke being blown into the air the smell the scent the feeling of being alive the sensation of being free yet not free of being at ease yet uneasy and thinking if only Buck was here if only he’d taken the day off and wondering what to do for the rest of the day apart from the chores apart from the usual day to day things and wishing that the salesman would ome by today wishing that he’d call in and maybe you say to yourself just maybe that **** sofa that sickly flowered sofa could be could be soft against your naked **** and he making it out with you and him yakking about pots and pans and the hard sell and you not caring a fig’s skin as long as you had company and he was pretty good but he never did and you never did and the smoke touches the ceiling like grey fingers reaching for the sky and you sitting there smoking waiting for the why.

Julie followed Benedict
from bookshop to bookshop
then they went in a cafe
on Charing Cross Road

and sat down
by the window
and ordered two coffees
and lit up cigarettes

how's it going
at the hospital?
he asked
gutty

she said
boring my ******* off    
I shouldn't be there
she inhaled deeply

on her cigarette
once you're off the drugs
you won't be
he said

I am off the drugs
she looked at him
well most of the time
she said

what do they say
at the hospital?
they said my parents
want me to stay there

until I'm cleaned off  
she said
but you're out today
he said

yes on good behaviour
she said
any sign
I've taken anything

then I'm locked in
and Daddy said
they'll have me sectioned
if need be

he has doctor friends
who will oblige
and him and Mother
being doctors themselves

it won't be difficult
she said
Benedict watched
as the waitress

brought the coffees
and put them on the table
and swayed off
in a Monroe fashion

we could take in a film
if you like
he said
no I don't want

to be stuck
in some smokey cinema
she said
I want to be out

in the fresh air
and see London
ok
he said

what about having a stroll
along the Thames Embankment?
then after take in
a look around an art gallery

you are full of fun
she said moodily
ok where then?
he said

some room someplace
and a good ****
she said
the word hung in the air

like a dark cloud
in the cafe
people gaped at her
I think they've got

Lichtenstein at the gallery
this month
he said
Pop Art stuff

he added
she pulled a face
then drew on her cigarette
you're in a mood

he said
maybe you should
have stayed at the hospital
and twiddled your thumbs

on the ward
she stared at him
releasing smoke
from her mouth slowly

ok the gallery
isn't too bad an idea
she said
but I'm gagging

for a fix
my body's screaming for it
she went quiet
and sipped her coffee

he looked at her
sitting there
dark brown hair
tied by a ribbon

her eyes staring
at the table
her fingers holding
the cup and cigarette

he recalled the time
at the hospital
when they'd managed
to be alone

in the small broom cupboard
and the quick ***
in the dark
between brooms

and dusters
and buckets
he smiled
what you smiling at?

she said
cupboard love
he said
she laughed

yes that was good
she said
unexpected too
and any moment

some poor cleaner
coming for a bucket
and seeing us at it
she stubbed out

her cigarette
in an ashtray
on the table
and they went out the cafe

and back along
towards Trafalgar Square
to the art gallery
to see what was there.

Matilda listens to make sure they’ve gone out knowing Mr Doozie the cat is licking his milk the slurping sound fills the now silent room but she has to be sure her aunt and uncle have gone she can’t allow Moses to come in by the backdoor until they’re long gone and in the town buying and selling their wares she places her hands on her head and closes her eyes to focus her listening to close out Mr Doozie’s sounds the saucer of milk being pushed across the floor the purring but she cannot hear them now cannot hear their voices can’t hear Auntie’s whines and Uncle’s bellows can’t smell Uncle’s pipe or the aroma of his farts or Auntie’s sour body odour and sniffs the air and puts one leg up on the chair and lets the skirt fall back revealing her fine thigh and underwear something for Moses to see and get excited about not that he needs any encouragement  especially after the last time he came around when her aunt and uncle had gone off for the day to market on the old bus and Moses had sneaked in the back door his eyes peering around the door and she saying They’ve gone out you can come in and he did and while Mr Doozie sat on the end of the bed watching disinterestedly Moses had kissed her all over her body and after games of foreplay he’d entered her with subtleness and moved in a slow motion so that the bed only moved and rattled slightly and did not disturbed Mr Doozie and they had only just dressed and was letting Moses out the back door when Auntie came in the front door followed by Uncle with his arms laden with shopping and moaning about the prices and the shop girls and how there is no manners anymore and she feeling Moses’ ***** easing down her thigh and stood there with her innocent stare but this time Moses would need to be quicker as they had only gone to town and wouldn’t be long and if they returned earlier and caught her and Moses undressed and ******* with Mr Doozie sitting watching she doesn’t know what they’d say or do although knowing Uncle he’d chase off Moses with his walking stick and tan her hide until she cried and cried but Moses hasn’t come and she listens out hushing Mr Doozie with a shush shush and scratches her thigh and strains her ears was that him? She sighs opening her eyes sitting up looking towards the door waiting anticipating feeling the body’s urge the body’s need wanting Moses to come through the door and hurry with her up the stairs followed no doubt by Mr Doozie and quickly ******* and into her bed and setting aside the kissing and messing get on with the ******* but the door remains closed the room is almost silent apart from Mr Doozie’s licking and purring and the soft tick tocking of the grandfather clock and her heart thumping boom boom boom boom like a small drum all around the room and inside her head and she disappointed frustrated with no *** with Moses just a small empty bed.

On the way
with your father

to the building site
to put in

new windows
to new buildings

you saw this girl
on the platform

of the railway station
standing there

blonde hair  
red mini skirt

white top
small handbag

on her shoulder
nice legs

you thought
right up

to her ***
(as the guys

would say)
taking a quick glance

before the train came
and took her

from your sight forever
and a day

she turned
and gazed up

the platform
to look for the train

you couldn’t see
the colour of eyes

too far to view
but her *******

seemed small
but compact

her hands folded
in front

unringed fingers
(in with a chance

you mused)
but you guessed

she was out
of your league

she’d not give you
a second gaze

not speak
to the likes of you

in your jeans
and work jacket

and well cropped hair
standing there

giving her
the ****** stare.

You sit in a chair in the locked room staring at your reflection in the mirror taking in your eyes that stare back at you look at the nose the mouth the hair at the lost ness you see there and all the time downstairs the hum of voices which carry up the stairs as if they had legs of their own and amongst them your husband’s voice that deep baritone that dark sound voice that resides in your memory even when you do not see him for days and outside the window which is sealed your children play at their games their loud voices and laughter reach up to you and take your hand in theirs in your imagination as you look away momentarily and gaze at the window at the curtains that are drawn at the morning sunlight trying to permeate through the cloth at the way pictures on the walls hang lopsided as if they too are slightly mad as if they are merely reflection of your mind and at your inner turmoil and imbalance the Van Gogh with its greens and yellows and birds dark as death and fields that sway insanely wrestling with the angry sky and whole scene reaching out to you wanting to draw you into the inferno of colours and shapes and hardened oils and looking back at the mirror the eyes are still on you the stare hard as marble the pupils like deep pools the chin solid the mouth stretched tight as if drawn in dull red by a child and as you stare at the eyes you remember your mother’s eyes that hint of madness even then in her before the big plunge came prior to the demons settling up home within her mind before they took her way screaming like some banshee out of the house leaving you at the top of the stairs peering down at her through your nine year old eyes crying for her return even though her eyes were wild with fires and demons and voices left her lips voices not hers words foul and high and deep and curses that echoed down the passages years afterward and your father fearing that the madness would be in you  too would beat you at any sign of such a malady raising its head in words or in your eyes or gestures and your sister Clare strapped in her wheelchair was pushed out in the garden in all weathers so as to be away from you away from your potential insanity where in one harsh winter she died of influenza saved at least from you and the latent madness your father feared and buried in the family site beneath a yew that sheltered her from the hot sun and as you gaze at your lips you watch them move formulating words uttering sounds which suddenly become songs French chansons the ones your mother taught you the very ones she sang to you as she held you close even though the dark demons were gradually creeping upon her and all this your husband now knows and the whole cycle begins again and the children outside play as you did once as your mother stared down at you as you too played with all innocence as they are doing now with black crows gathering in a nearby fields beneath a darkening sky.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

any of them
I do
she said
but Latin is hard

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You climbed through a broken window
at the back of the deserted pub
and you and ****

and Ingrid
went
into the gloomy bar room

with dust and chairs
and round tables
some broken

and empty glasses
and bottles
on shelves

and **** went
behind the bar
and said

what are you having?
large beer and a gin
for the lady

you said
sorry mate no beer
and we're right out of gin

**** said
shame
you said

Ingrid wandered
around the tables anxiously
do people come in here now?

no been closed for years
**** said
although some one's

been here
going by
the broken window

he added
Ingrid ran her finger
across a dusty table

could do with a good clean
she said
I think my granddad

used to drink here
said ****
I remember waiting outside

with a bottle of lemonade
and  packet of crisps
I've done that

Ingrid said
what waited outside of here?
**** said

no not here
she said
another pub

the Duke of Wellington mostly
never done it
you said

ain't done what?
**** asked
waited outside pubs

you said
lucky you then
**** said

waited for hours once
Ingrid said
mum was away

and Dad was in there so long
that someone
asked about me

and he came out
and dragged me home
all annoyed

as if I'd complained
you gazed at her
waiting for the next comment

about her old man
but she didn't
say anything

but you knew
what he most probably did
when he got her home

she looked at the windows
with words on them
but they were back to front

and hard to read  
**** held up a bottle
with a blue label

some sort of beer
he said
shall I open and have a swig?

no
said Ingrid
probably taste horrible

all beers taste horrible
**** said
he put the top

of the bottle
against a bottle opener
behind the bar

nailed to the bar top  
and yanked it open
and smelt it

have a sniff
he said
and he brought the bottle

around the bar
and you had a sniff
smells all right

you said
Ingrid sniffed
yuk

she said  
smells like my dad's breath
when he gets near me

**** had a quick swig
and pulled a face
yes horrible

he said
he put the bottle on the bar
and you all walked

around the bar room
then there a bang from upstairs
what the heck was that​ ?

**** said quietly
*****
you said

*****? Ingrid said anxiously
let's go
yes let's be off

**** said
and so you all tiptoed
as fast as you could

through to the back  
and one by one
out the window

making sure
not to cut yourselves
on the broken glass

once outside
**** went off
down the subway

to his home
and you and Ingrid
walked along

the New Kent Road
in the late afternoon
she brushing off her dress

to get rid of the dust
and you rubbed your hands
together with spit

to clean them
the smell of fish
and vinegar

from the fish and chips shop
the passing traffic
she talked of going home

before her old man
got back
so she could wash

and clean up
her eyes
dark olives shining

and tearful
you said
tomorrow we can go

to the cinema
and see that cowboy film
I told you about

yes
she said softly
if I'm allowed out

and you crossed the road
and walked down
Meadow Row

wanting her to stay
and play and not
have to go.

She parked her bike
by the stone bridge
and stared down at the river
waiting for Naaman

he said to meet her there(
he finished
his half day of work
just before)

and go for a ride
and see a few things
she'd not seen him
since the Sunday before

a short walk through the woods
by the farmhouse
out of sight
of her parent's gaze

hand in hand
flesh on flesh
she watched
as the river flowed onwards

the ever flowing water
then Milka heard him call
as he rode near the bridge
waving a hand

she looked at him riding
with his Elvis style hair
and jeans and open neck shirt
he dismounted his bike

next to hers
and walked to her
she stood expectantly
nerves tingling

her whole insides
butterflying
he kissed her cheek
she held his hands

kissed again
got here as fast as I could
Naaman said
your brothers have gone

into town
so won't be this way
in a while
she smiled

I wondered
if they'd be with you
she said
you look pretty

he said shyly
do I?
she said
course you do

he said
nice of you to say
where are we going?
she asked

bike ride
he said
where to?
a place I used to live

he said
is it far?
Milka asked
not that far

we can go through
the back lanes mostly
he said
ok

she said
so they got on their bikes
and rode off up the hill
he in front she behind

along country lanes
up hills down hills
through narrower lanes
along a main road

keeping to the side
of the grass verge
and 20 minutes later
they were there

and he rode into a narrow path
and got off his bike
by some trees
and she followed

and did likewise
she bent over
getting her breath back
he leaned against a tree

some ride
he said
longer than I thought
she blew out breath

and inhaled
leaning by Naaman
you lived here?
yes up the road a bit

second cottage in
she looked around her
quiet here
yes is it

he said
come I'll show where it is
and he took her hand
and walked her

through the woods
and narrow path
she sensed his hand
in hers

ran her thumb
on the back
of his hand
there

he said
through that gate
they stood looking at a gate
at the back of a cottage

who lives there now?
she asked
don't know
he said sadly

I'll show you the pond
where I used to fish
and where I'd sit
and think things through

so she walked with him
through a wooded path
the area darker
because of denseness of trees

then they came to a fence
and they climbed over
and through a field
and then he showed her

the large pond
where he used to fish
they walked to the edge
and stood looking

at the water's skin
her hand still in his
sunlight filtering
through the trees above

they sat down on the grass
did you catch any fish here?
she asked
no but I tried

he said
she kissed him
he smelt apples
fresh picked

her flush of skin
her eyes bright
her short cropped hair
she leaned against him

he sensed her nearness
her beat of heart
her small **** pressing
against the yellow top

least I won't hear
my mother call from here
she said
or my brothers teasing

guess not
he said  
they worry about you
you're only 14

she looked away
you're only 16
she countered
besides I'm with you

they trust you
she added
do they?
he said

course they do
she said
turning her head
taking in

his hazel eyed stare
do they know
you're with me today?
she shook her head

they didn't ask
and I didn't say
she said
Yaakov knows

Naaman said
I told him
you did?
she said

what did he say?
said he felt sorry for me
but that I'd soon recover
she looked at him

what a cheek
she said
is that all he said?
yes then he talked

of the new Elvis film
at the flicks
and was I going
is that all?

he nodded
he'll tell my mother
she said
don't think so

he replied
he said he'll leave that
for you to do
and she lay her head

against his shoulder
and he kissed her head
and they sat there
in the quietness

kissing now
and again
then ran for cover
from a downpour of rain.

Glug glug glug goes Daddy’s bottle the beer going down his Adam’s apple rising and falling his eyes closed as if in some kind of prayer his lips over the end like a baby’s lips over its mother’s dug glug glug glug as he lifts the bottle higher and Mother saying nothing loud enough for him to hear but muttering by the sink her voice low pitched but angry and she casting him the over the shoulder look now and then but looking away as soon as she thinks he might see her but he doesn’t his eyes are still closed and you watch Daddy from the big chair opposite taking in his unshaven chin the closed eyes the wet lips the hairy hand holding the bottle his shirt open showing his hairy chest and the faded jeans stained and torn and Mother says Ain’t you got nothing else to do than stare at your daddy Molly ain’t there some chores you could do? She eyes you now her liquidy eyes focusing on you fixing you like some butterfly on a board her words catching your ears and pulling Bad enough him sitting there drinking without you just watching him and knowing there’s work to be done Mother adds spitting the words now so that phlegm sits on her lower lip and Daddy opens his eyes and looks around moving the bottle away from his lips and holding it in mid air his mouth open the tongue lingering there and he says What you looking at child ain’t you seen a man drinking before and as your Mommy says you must have chores waiting to be done and don’t gaze at me with those small beady eyes of yours get going before I take my belt to your little *** and you lift yourself from the chair and look at Mother standing there her hands wet from the sink wiping them on her apron giving Daddy the stare her eyes damp with soon to flow tears and Daddy goes as if to swipe you as you pass his large hand just inches from your *** and you run out into the porch and into the sunlight with the smells of the yard and hens and sounds and sensations and raised voices from within and you go sit over by the barn and let them get on with it breathing in the air letting your head feel freshness sense old and new smells and thinking what chores to do if any and besides they’ll not come looking for you or worry where you’ve got to and the chores can wait and you sit and watch the house listening to the voices waiting for the smashing of cups and plates and pans flying and cries and shouts but they don’t come just that odd silence and the house just standing there like some mausoleum and you watch a while longer your *** numbing as you sit there remembering that last stinging hand to hit your *** and redden and after a quarter of an hour you get up and walk slowly to the back door and peep in to see where they are to catch sight of them but they’re not there the room is empty the bottle on the table lying on its side and so you go to the stairs and listen for any sounds but hear nothing and so you take one step at a time holding your hands together fearing Daddy might appear at the top his big eyes gazing at you but he doesn’t appear and so you reach the top and wander along the passage almost on tiptoe not wanting for them to hear and then you hear sounds voices muffled and Mother moaning and Daddy grunting and you stand by the door with your ear to the wood wondering if Mother’s ok or if Daddy’s beating into her some as he does now and then wondering what Daddy’s doing to Mother and why she doesn’t cry just moans and groans and then you get unsettled and walk away and go down the stairs and sit in the porch and keep your ears open to sounds and sensing fear creep up your spine like Daddy’s fingers do some night under the covers and he pretends they’re spiders and tickle and tickle tickle and touch and touch and touch.

It's been two years
since Baruch saw Yehudit
for the first time
on the school bus

that long
since that first kiss
that Christmas
under that moon

and stars
now as she turns
from the window
she says

what time will your mother
be home?
about 50 minutes
he says

on the bus?
yes on the bus
he answers
she stands there naked

the sunlight coming
over shoulders
and lighting up
her brown hair

she looks at him
lying there on the bed
hands behind his head
he searches her eyes

the blueness of them
the heaviness
of her *******
the love bites

the peasantness
the broadness of hips
have we time for more?
she asks

maybe
he says
she moves to the bed
and climbs up beside him

and lays her head
on his chest
I would never have dreamed
of this last year

she says
she kisses his stomach
lips damp warm
he strokes her shoulder

runs a finger
along her spine
she giggles
kisses him more

what would your mother say
if she found us thus?
he asks
don't think of it

she says
she lies beside him
he kisses her breast
softly

slowly
she turns towards him
runs a finger
down his thigh

he senses her movement
she imagines her mother
coming up the stairs
the heavy stomp

the booming voice
a smacking hand
she lies on her back
senses his movement

she embraces him
her hands knotted
behind him
he hears the dog bark

downstairs
he freezes
what's up?
she asks

earlier bus
he replies
he slips from the bed
and runs to the window

his mother is walking up
the road from the bus stop
quick
he says

she's coming
who?
she says
lying there

with a vacant stare
my mother's coming
quick dress
out the back door

the space of time
the movement of bodies
his mother's slow pace
towards the house

the dog barking louder
semi clothed
Yehudit runs with items
out the back door

with Baruch behind
along the back path
by orchard and logs
out the back gate

she in front
clutching shoes
and stockings
he watching

as he runs
her peasant body
swaying
like a mighty ship

on perilous seas
and storing away
as he runs
everything he sees.

I rise with the morning bell, said Sister Agnes; I hear it now in my ears. It rings in the ears and heart. The window shows dawn just about to come over the cloister wall like a mischievous child about to play forbidden games. I sing in choir with my voice absorbed by the voices of others and the walls of the church. I walk the cell like one waiting to die; listen to the birdsong outside like one wanting new life or life renewed. Sister Blaise is in the cloister garth walking with the birds, the morning chill resting on her black serge shoulder. I watch her walk; her feet tread like one on eggshells. Her hands hidden beneath her blackbird breast, her head bowed like one at prayer. She has birds at her feet, St Francis like. I shall leave her, kneel in prayer, and climb the stairway to contemplation. My father's tears settle on my sight; his voice broken; his eyes looking out at the garden where once we walked. He would have had me stay at home; dry old-maid fashion at his beck and call day and night as my mother did until cancer dragged her weeping to the far beyond. I shut my lids against the dawn; press my lids like one seeking blindness to the harsh day's light. My brother, George, sits in some Paris café talking of art and painting his oil-drench canvases in his back street studio. Father talks of him as one who is lost. Both of us are lost to him, each in their own way. George cares not; his art and women are his all. Thoughts push their way through the curtains of my prayer; they are rude and unclean; they are ill bred like the children my mother despised. I rise from prayer like one defeated. The light from the dawn blesses me with warmth; my flesh touched like one in love. I look at Sister Blaise and her birds; her hands are open like one crucified. Her rosary hangs from her belt; a thousand prayers cling to each bead. Last night I saw her kiss the feet of the stone ******; lay her hand on the Saviour's head. Holiness nests in her heart like a white bird in a dark bush; she shall hold me in my dim hours. The bell rings once more; its echo vibrates my ears and heart. I was happy when I entered your house; your handmaiden shall attend your needs. Prayers escape me; liturgies are my food and drink; my beads shall be my stones of pain. My aches shall be the nails to crucify me in my dark hours; my Christ bleeds in my monthly death. All shall be forgiven. The stones shall break my bones; the words pierce my fleshy heart. I shall go now; descend the stairs for dawn time prayer. Night flees me like one unfaithful to a lover's kiss.  I come.  My bridegroom

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

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

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

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

But he is at war,
some cold wet trench.

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

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

A maid's work
is never done.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Polly gets out
the chamber ***
and squats.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the ice cream van drew off
and you held on
to the side

by your finger tips
until the van picked up
a mild speed

when you jumped off
and tried to remain
on your feet

without falling
and only by sheer luck
or balance

did you manage it
and the other kids
clapped hands

and cheered
but Ingrid said
thought you'd hurt yourself

don't your mother
care about you doing that?
she doesn't know

you said
you don't tell her
what you do?

she said
of course not
you replied

she has enough
to worry about
without me

giving her more worry
Ingrid frowned
but why do it?

holding on to the van
I mean?
because it's there

a challenge
like climbing Mount Everest
I guess

you said
she played
with her fingers nervously

as if knitting
an invisible sock
I worry about you

she said
I guess that's what girls do
you replied

walking through the Square
she by your side
her food stained dress

having yellow flowers
her grey socks
her hair pinned

by steel grips
not all girls
she said

least not about you
you smiled
I hope not

you said
girls **** you dry
always on

about soft things
or about dolls
or babies

or such matters
I don't
she said

I think of you
and you being safe
I'm safe

you said
you patted
your six shooter toy gun

wedged in your holster
and you're safe too
you added

wish I was
she said softly
well apart

from your old man
you said
but apart

from filling him
full of cap smoke
or hitting him

on the bonce
with my six shooter ****
isn't much

I can do about him
you said
she looked at you

smiling weakly
maybe one day
we could run off together

she said
and live in one
of those houses

in the Wild West
you nodded
yes good idea

and I can ride
a real horse
and keep cattle

she nodded
and I can keep house
and have babies

sure
you said
and if your old man

comes worrying you
I can plugged him
full of lead.

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.

Christina sat outside
the science block
for the school photo

she and others in her class
some sitting
others standing

boys and girls
the teacher standing
to one side

gesturing
with her hands
for composition

the photographer
by his camera
setting things

to light and shade
and who was where
and to what degree

Christina wishing
it all over
to get lunch

out the way
to see Benedict
on the sports field

after lunch
up by the fence
or by the edge

of the woods
the teacher whispering words
hush hush

she said
now everyone be still
hold that pose

everyone stiffened
one or two grin
or look away

at the last second
but Christina sat
as if frozen

her mind elsewhere
thinking of that day
she took Benedict

home for lunch
(her mother's suggestion)
and after soup

and bread and tea
her mother gone off
to shop

she took Benedict
to tour the house
inside and out

and up the stairs
and said
this is my room

and opened the door
and they stood
looking in

the curtains drawn
the room fresh polished
the bed made

her clothes put away
(thank God)
her doll lying on top

(an old gift
still loved)
she hesitated

looking in
he beside her
their hands within inches

of touching
he said
nice room

neater than mine
and she wished
he could take her there

so she could stare
and maybe
but he lived too far

from school
for her to go
as she lived

in the town
of the school
a mere few minutes walk

downstairs
her mother's voice calling
just coming

Christina said
Benedict wanted the loo
and they walked downstairs

he in deep thought
she thinking what if
they'd been caught

once more
the photographer said
everyone keep that pose

and her thoughts moved on
to that other time
up near the wood

on the sports field
and he talking
of some teacher gone

from school
who had taken pupils
home during lunch

and she was thinking
of how near they stood
to the wood

and if only they could
but what?
she asked herself

what if they had
what would it involve?
instinct and desires

the kissing
and holding
and him being near

but what else?
ok that will do
the teacher said

all done now
the photographer said
and they were free

to move
and walk
and she moved

and got ready
to go for lunch
then see Benedict

on the field
by the fence
or by the nearby wood

and find out
what else
if she could.

James Dean died that year and Mother was in the loony bin as Father termed it but he wouldn’t take you or Joey to see her because he said There’s no point kids she sits staring at walls and talking to herself or gets abusive and comes out with the most choicest of words which I wouldn’t want you to hear and besides it’s too far for you to go on a weekend and you’d only get upset especially you Lizzie you’d be in tears before they shut the **** door of the ward and all those other drooling fools there and that was it you didn’t get to see her not a peek just what he said she did or said or didn’t say or do but you wanted so much to see her and have her touch your cheek and be home again and tuck you up in bed and tell you the stories that she used to do all sat up on the end of the bed reading from some book she had or making up stories right out of her head and you remember the time she sneaked you and Joey up some supper when Father said no you’d been bad and that you had to go to bed without any supper and be careful Christ didn’t send you to Hell and damnation but Mother brought the supper anyway and listened out in case Father came up but he never did he was too busy drinking or playing cards with the Smiths from across the fields who stank of ***** and sweat and laughed too loud and swore and smoke cheap cigarettes and so Mother’d sit on the end of the bed watching you eat and having that bright eyed look about her and that small smile she had when she thought you were happy but then she became odd and out of it and talked to people who weren’t there or went for long walks and got lost and the cops had to bring her back again and again and once she sat in the bath fully clothed saying she didn’t want Christ seeing her in **** or James Dean to touch her up with his ghostly fingers and so Father took her to see some quack who examined her and talked to her as best he could until she tried to gouge out his eyes with his pen and Father had to retrain her and hold her down on the floor until some auxiliaries from down the hospital hall came bounding in and suited her up in a jacket that tied at the back and you never saw her again after that morning with her getting into Father’s car with her dark eyes staring and two of her fingers giving an up you sign to the passing neighbours who stood open mouthed and tut-tutted and you and Joey watching the car go off and over the horizon like a crazy ship going out to sea with one lone captain and a wild eyed woman as his only crew and she looking back waving her two finger in the air at Joey and you.

Mrs Squires and Benedict
at the cheap hotel
in back street
off Charing Cross station

and she said
come on in
let's share this bath
and so he undressed

and there she was
in the water
waiting for him
and he climbed in

and sat opposite her
in the big bath
her shorter legs
between his

his longer legs
outside of hers
she lay back
her *******

sleeping puppies
her hands touching
his feet
come on

she said
don't be shy
and she tickled his toes
and tried to lift them

to her lips
he laughed
I see Percy's moving
she said

he looked at his pecker
rising in the water
needs a wash
she said

and that was that
and after in the room
by the noisy gas heater
in front

of the double bed
he dried
and watched
as she lay there smoking

her hair brushed back
her nightdress
covering her
and she said

wasn't the show good?
yes it was
he said
toweling his pecker dry

the dancers were good too
she inhaled
he studied her
wondered what

her husband would say
seeing her there
what he would have thought
of her bathing

with some young dude
in some cheap hotel
once he had dried
he put on

his dressing gown
and lay on the bed
beside her
and she offered him

a cigarette and lit it for him
and they watched
as their joint smoke
rose in swirling patterns

later
when the lights
were out
(except for the on and off

neon lights
from the street outside)
they made love
in the double bed

the springs going some
the gas fire hissing
like a box of snakes
and he thinking

of her husband
lying in some
other bed alone
with the lights out

and she thinking
of the best ***
she'd had in years
and more to come

and the on and off
neon lights
and somewhere
a gunshot

or car backfiring
and he wondering
what her husband
would say

or think
her having
a young stud
and a good lay.

The silence of her frightens you. You stare at her laid out body and feel the want to hold her and kiss her but you know she’s dead and that she will feel nothing of your love again or sense your warmth. Drowned. So suddenly, so quickly. There one moment laughing and full of life and then gone. You gaze at her, at her flesh, at her fingernails. She kept herself so clean, so neat and tidy. The fingernails are trimmed exactly, no rough edges, no uneven part, all just so. Perfection. You run a finger along her ribs; sense the bones beneath the skin. So young, so fresh, so new. You lean forward and kiss her brow. Cold and still. The ginger hair with its boyish cut feels soft as if you had just washed and combed it. No, some other did that, combed it so. You stand back and take in each aspect of her. Her head is reclined upon a small pillow so that the head is tilted forward slightly; the eyes are closed as if in sleep, the pale eyelids like small smooth shells. You lean forward slowly and kiss each one. Secretly you hope that she wakes up and opens her eyes, but she doesn’t, she just lies there motionless, lifeless. You gave birth to her, brought her into the world, heard her first cries, saw her first clenched and unclenched fists, the first sign of her lips opening and closing seeking your *******. She seeks them no more. Seeks nothing now; all seeking is at an end. Her thin arms are laid down by her sides, the hands slightly turned outward as if to say, look at me now Mother, see I am perfected. Not yet a woman, but just about to enter that arena, just about to start her menstrual cycle, her first feeling of breast about to begin. All stopped before it could blossom; stilled in the bud. She has your nose, not her father’s. Your lips, not his. Those lips, wanting to kiss and be kissed, wanting once to ****, are still and chilled now. You want to kiss them, want them to open and her words to speak, her tongue to poke out at you as she would often in fun. The lips are sealed. She speaks no more, nor laughs nor cries. You cradled her when she had her first bleed, that frightened her, thought she was about to die. You ought to have warned her, have mentioned the facts of life to her, but you didn’t, you wanted her to remain your little girl, your baby, not become a woman, not grow up and become lost to you. You bite your lips. She is lost to you now. Lying there on that marble slab like so much wasted flesh. You cry. For the first time you begin to let the tears flow, let them just come, no holding them back now, no more pretence, no more trying to be brave, you feel them on your cheeks, the dampness, the eyes watering to such a degree that is becomes a blur. You wipe your eyes with your hand; want to see each aspect of her before they cover her over again with the sheet, before she’s taken from your sight forever. You can hear yourself cry now, the sound is wounding, as if someone tore at your soul. No one comes; they leave you alone, leave you to this last meeting, this final confrontation with your daughter. How still she is. So motionless. How pale, how thin. Why her? Why now? You lean close to her chest, put your ear there in the hope you may hear her heart beat, some small hope that the doctors are wrong, but there is no heartbeat, nothing. She looks at peace, you think. Yes, at peace. As if in sleep. She used to sleep like that when you would enter her room to see if she was all right at night and there she would be sleeping like this. As if nothing could disturb. Nothing to disturb. Nothing. Your tears have fallen on her cheek as if she was crying too. You wipe them gently away with your fingers. You whisper to her. You utter words in her ear. Save a place for me where you are, you say softly, keep a place for me to be with you. You want her to nod her head or open her lips and say, yes, Mother, of course I will. But she doesn’t, she just lies motionless and silent. The silence of her frightens you. You move away as the door opens and the others enter. They gather around dressed in black like you, as silent as she, but alive, thinking, feeling, sensing, unlike her. You wish you could be laying beside her now, side-by-side, close in death as you had been in life, hands touching. They begin to murmur, the others, gently whisper to you, time to go, time to leave her be. But you can’t, the effort of leaving tears at your very being, drags at your soul, pulls you into the darkness. Someone covers her with the white sheet and she is gone and all you see is the outline of perfection dressed in white like some bride only there is no wedding, no bridegroom, only the dark reaper, edging his way closer into the room as you are pulled gently away and out of the small room with the last image of your daughter sealed in your mind.

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.

When she fainted
at the bus stop in the town
and others gathered

around her
you stood watching
anxious of her

being such
but not wanting others
to know of you and she

(her choice)
you stood looking
through the crowd

of what you could
of her
the glimpse

of black hair
the yellow flowered dress
a white sock

then she was up
and someone
brushed her off

Jane gazed at you
pale white
her lips bluish

her dark eyes
black olives
on white plates

and next day(Sunday)
after church
she walked over to you

and(no one noticing)
you and she wandered off
beyond the hedge

her father shaking hands
at the porch of church
her mother talking

of some fete
and the making of cakes
Jane taking your hand

settled by a higher hedge
and whispered
glad you never came

to me yesterday
when I fainted
that would have set

the tongues wagging
I thought that too
you said

she smiled
why did you faint?
you asked

not sure
Mum thinks
it's my time of month

or some such thing
you looked puzzled
unsure what her time

of month was
or what it meant
(13 years old

as both you were)
I see
you said

but didn't
anyway
she said

feel better today
and then she talked
of a butterfly she'd seen

sounding like
some lady or other
you stared at her

the eyes bright
the skin still pale
her hand in yours

the scent of apples
freshly picked
her warmth on yours

her words silk like
whispering to you
and you thought

of the Sunday before
the walk up the Downs
the hand in hand

kind of thing
you thinking
of her nearness

something stirring
within
and she talking

of the spread of flowers
colours
design

petals
and how bees
come and go

and you sensing
each touch of her
skin on skin

her thumb stroking
the back of your hand
then someone called her name

beyond the hedge
over from the church
and letting go

of your hand
she walked back
leaving you to stare

and wonder and wish
as you walked back
another way

the churchyard
with its many dead
the flowers

the smells of summer
and you watching
wanting her instead.

She sits on her bed
brushing her long brown hair
with the brush
her mother gave her.

She has had a bath,
needed after being
with him,
the way he was,

and for so long.
The bath so relaxing,
the water just right,
being able to lay there,

water over her,
suds from the borrowed
bath stuff( Gabrielle
need never know),

she feeling the water
fondling about her *******,
washing him off,
dissolving him

in the suds.
She brushes him out
of her hair,
each long stroke

and a bit more of him
is gone.
She stops and thinks.
Mid air the brush

and hand stay.
Was it always that way?
No, there was a time
when seeing him

was a pleasure,
she actually used to get
excited when he
was to come,

actually looked forward
to his presence,
his love making,
the things he used to do,

the way he did them.
Now, she dreads him
being there,
making love to her,

his fingers in her hair.
She brushes again,
downward strokes,
takes out the knots

that gather at the ends.
Was it ever love?
Was it other than physical?
Just a game of the ******?

She puts down the brush
and gazes at herself
in the old fashion mirror.
Still passable,

still presentable,
still has it in bucketfuls
as he used to say.
But, no,

she supposes not,
never really got to her heart,
never quite made it that far.
Liar, she tells herself,

you loved him more
than any other,
used to lay awake
at night thinking of him

and his next call,
it wasn't just *** after all.
No, I suppose not,
there was that strong

element of love,
that other than just
the physical,
other than the ******.

But that makes it worse
not better,
the fact I loved him once,
she tells herself,

takes it deeper,
takes it to the core
of the heart,
that place where each

string of nerve,
each particle of being
is torn open
like a ripe fruit

and ****** dry.
She's just had ***
with him,
just the physical,

just the lying down
and taking it bit.
Now, she loves him not,
the lying, cheating ****.

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

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

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

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

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

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

the nails clean
and neatly clipped
the bus stopped
and started

and people got off
and on
talking
staring

some standing
most sitting
when the bus
came to London Bridge

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

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

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

not allowed to come
she said
why?
he said

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

she paused
and looked away
at a sailing boat
going by

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ingrid winced
as she sat
on the stone steps

of Banks House
with Benedict
after his tea

of beans on toast
and a glass of milk
the early evening

was still warm
he never asked why
she winced when she sat

he guessed her old man
had hit her again
her eyes were red

when he knocked her door
a few minutes before
to ask her out

her father had gone by
Benedict on the stairs
5 minutes before

smoking his usual
thin cigarette
his cap pulled

over one eye
don't go far
her mother said

and shut the door
have you had your tea?
Benedict asked

she nodded
and put her hands
on her knees

he wondered if she had
she looked so thin
how about coming with me

to the chippy?
he said
Mum said not

to go far
Ingrid said
it isn't far

he said
it's only up Meadow Row
and across the road

she bit her lip
saw your old man go out
a little while ago

he looked his usual
happy self
Benedict said

she looked
at her tatty plimsolls
she winced

as she moved
well are you coming?
he asked

what if she calls me?
I'll tell her I'm taking you
to the chippy

and be back soon
he said
she might say no

Ingrid said
she won't
he said

she never says no
to me
she looked at him

nervously
suppose
she said

you stay here
and I 'll go say
and he went up the stairs

and she sat watching
until he went from view
she rubbed her thigh

and tried to sit comfortably
she said yes
Benedict said

coming down the stairs
two at a time
did she?

Ingrid said
as long as I was paying
which I am of course

I've got 6d
that'll buy us
a big bag to share

she moved carefully
on the stair
and stood up

and they went down
the steps in silence
passing Ingrid's big sister

who was with
the Spiv looking guy
with the black and white shoes

and greasy hair style
and onto the Square
Benedict told her

his old man
had made him a metal money box
painted blue

to keep my money in he said
that's when he don't nick it
to buy his cigarettes

if he gets short
still at least he made it I suppose
she said

my dad makes nothing
and gives me nothing
they went down the *****

and by the grocer shop
except a good hiding
Benedict said

she said nothing
he gives you that
he calls it discipline

for being bad
she said
cruel ***

Benedict said  
she smiled
they went by

the noisy public house
half way up Meadow Row
she cringed in case

her father was in there
and went up and by
the green grocer shop

where Benedict got
his mother's potatoes and cabbages
they crossed the New Kent Road

and into the chip shop
where he asked
for 6d per of chips

and salt and vinegar
and she waited by the wall  
hands by her side

her hair held at the side
by hair grips
her eyes less red

he brought the chips
to the table along the wall
and sat on the high stalls

she wincing as she sat
he looking at her
sitting there

her flowered
stained cardigan
her off white blouse

and grey skirt
coming to her knees
and felt funny inside

being there with her
he and she
both 9 years old

he the fastest six shooter
of the West
and she his saloon girl

his sidekick
sweet heart
better than the rest.

Ingrid would mostly get out of bed in the mornings last of all after her sister had done and her father had gone off to work and she had heard the front door go and knew it was safe to go wash and dress and brush her hair and sit down to breakfast her mother had prepared(if she was up) or she'd get her own cereal and mug of tea(stewed after her father had made it) and listened to the radio some ladeeda voice talking about something she didn't understand or music by so and so's orchestra watching her sister mouth in her cereal or her brother chewing the doorstep slice of bread he'd cut she sat in the wonky chair sitting still in case the leg broke and her dad'd leather her for being reckless when he got home she mouthed her cereal slowly knowing her mother'd say you got to chew it properly Ingrid you don't half gobble your food down like a blooming turkey you are and her brother sat opposite looking at her pulling a face now and then or poking out his tongue or her sister sitting back lounging as her mother called it and if her mother was up and dressed she'd be brushing the carpet in the other room or putting the copper on for the wash or hanging out washing from the night before on the line her dad put up out on the balcony Ingrid scratched her nose looking at the small television set in the corner the small black and white number her uncle said fell off the back of a lorry and no questions asked no lies told he'd say laughing she gazed at the mantelpiece with the old clock and a few small statues of birds and animals she tried to sit comfortable as she could tried to avoid sitting on her right buttock too much where her dad'd hit her the night before for a tear in her school skirt think we're made of money do ya do ya? she moved to her left ate the last mouthful and sipped her tea stewed or not at least it was still sweet and hot and it made her inside warm it was near time to go to school she thought looking at the clock only half listening to her brother talking about some bird he had been out with the night before oh yes she was up for it he said but up for what Ingrid didn't know or care her sister sat mouth open gazing at him the spoon half way to her mouth as if frozen in time and I fancy her a bit and said I'd take her to see that new picture that's out and we can sit in the back row and well he laughed you know what it's like in the back row but Ingrid didn't and looked away and wondered if she dared have a biscuit from her father's tin she liked the chocolate ones he bought for himself but if he found out there'd be hell to pay and he'd say it was nothing but theft and give her a good hiding no best not to risk it she thought getting down from the table and getting her coat and satchel ready to leave don't forget to brush your teeth her mother bellowed from the other room you know what the dentist said last time about your teeth as how you don't brush them enough OK I am Ingrid bellowed back going into the kitchen and taking her pink brush from the cup on the red tiled shelf and dipped it in the tin of tooth paste and brushed as hard as she could until her gums bled staring at herself in the small mirror her dad shaved in staring at her teeth the gums bleeding the toothpaste white and red her brush held by her mouth and washed her brush under the cold water tap the getting a handful of water she washed out her mouth until the bleeding stopped then wiped her mouth on the towel behind the door get a move on her mother bawled from the living room or you'll be late OK just going Ingrid bellowed back over the clutter of sounds from the radio and her mother banging around and she opened the front door and closed it behind her nosily so that her mother would know she'd gone and not bellow anymore and so off she walked along the balcony looking over at the Square below wondering if Benedict had left yet hoping he hadn't wishing to see him she went down the concrete stairs until she reached the entrance and out into the Square where she walked by the other flats on the ground floor looking ahead to see if Benedict was about but she couldn't see him and so walked on down the ***** towards the road then along by the flats wondering if he r mother was watching her walk along from the flat window above and behind her that's how her mother knew about Benedict and her how they walked together to school and sometimes they stood on the balcony in the evenings looking at the sky darkening or the down at the Square below but Benedict wasn't with her this morning maybe he'd gone earlier or maybe he was late leaving but she couldn't wait in case and besides her father didn't like Benedict said he was a bit up himself a bit soft what with his reading books and collecting stamps and so on but that was what she liked about him he was different and he was kind to her and didn't tease her like most of the boys did didn't call her four eyes or say she stank or that she had fleas(which she didn't except that one time she got them from Denise) or try to lift up her school skirt to see the colour of her underwear like some of the boys did or tried she went into subway the lights glowing the echoes of voices in her ears the hum of traffic above the sense of being walled in the smell of ***** where tramps had slept and **** the walls when she came out the other end she saw Benedict waiting for her by Burton's clothes shop his hands in his pockets a big smile on his face and she felt all warm inside all safe and happy as if blessed by the good God's grace.

Anne didn't like
the sight of the rain
she saw from the upper bedroom
she stood supported

on her crutches
gazing out
through the net curtains
look at that ****** rain

she said
I suppose we'll be stuck
in here all day Kid
you stared out

standing next to her
we could do jigsaw puzzles
or read books
you said

I don't want
to do any more
******* jigsaw puzzles
I've had enough of them

she said
stomping her crutches
on the wooden floor
I want to go out  

she said
but it's raining
you said
and they won't let us out

while it's like this
who cares about them
she said
I'm going out

but they'll see you
you said
not if we're careful
she said

we?
you said
yes we Kid
me and you

are going out
you stared at her
beside you
her dark hair

brushed neatly
her dark eyes
gazing at you
how?

you said
the sisters are everywhere
they'll see us
she closed her eyes

and stomped to the door
of the room
and pushed it shut
with one of her crutches

we're going Kid
and that's it
you looked at her
standing there

her back to the door
her one leg firm
on the floor
ok

you said
which way out?
we'll go out
by the side door

and along through
the side trees
but you can't get
the wheelchair down there

it's too narrow
you said
we'll walk then
she said firmly

ok
you said
and she smiled
good Kid

now go see
if the coast is clear
and I'll come down the stairs
as quiet as I can

she said
she moved out the way
and you went outside
and along the passage

looking to see
where the nuns were
and if any
were near the stairs

none was there
you walked back
to the bedroom
and told Anne

who nodded
and followed you
along the passage
and down the stairs

her crutches click clicking
on the way down
at the bottom she stopped
and looked both ways

you listened for voices
or footsteps
come on Kid
she said

and crutched her way
along the side passage
which led to the side door
you followed

at the door she paused
and looked out
at the rain
you looked by her

and saw the rain
hitting the glass panel
open up Kid
she said

and you opened the door
and she pushed you out
and followed close behind
her crutches going

at quite a pace
as you walked
through the rain
along through the trees

you sensed your clothes
getting wet as you moved
the raindrops falling
through the branches above

she was just behind
cursing and swearing
her dress clinging to her
as she moved along

then you moved
under the shelter
of the small summer house
at the back of the garden

near the back wall
here you both stood
out of the wet
watching the rain falling

and near by here and there
birds were calling
and there as you turned
to look at her

the dress showing
the outline of her leg
and stump
the dampness showing

her 11 year old frame
and from the nursing home
someone was calling
out her name.

And she guessed they would
Have told her about
Him soon enough if

They had wanted to,
But they hadn’t, so
That was it, and she

Couldn’t understand
It; the whole **** thing
Was about to fall

Apart and break her
******* fragile heart.

Searching in the gutters
of Meadow Row
and up along by the back
of the coal wharf

Benedict picked out
and up
dog ends
or cigarette butts

as his old man
called them
and picking them up
he tore open the paper

and tipped the tobacco
into a white paper
sweet bag
how can you do that?

Ingrid said
all those people’s
spit and dribble
on them

she pulled a face
he smiled
she looked serious
germs on them

she said
she wiped her hands
on her stained
green dress

he bent down
and picked out
another cigarette ****
and opened it up

between fingers
and thumbs
and emptied it
into the bag

you’re too young
to smoke
she said
if my dad saw me smoking

he’d smack me silly
she said
he does anyway
he said

she bit her lip
and looked away
sorry
he said

didn’t mean
to be like that
he touched her hand
she stared at him

through wire
framed glasses
she liked it when
his hand touched hers

no one else
touched her tenderly
she looked
at his cowboy hat

placed to the back
of his head
the six shooter gun
stuffed in the belt

of his jeans
the borrowed blue waistcoat
(his grandfather’s given
a month or so back)

she put her other hand
on top of his
he took his hand out slowly
in case other boys

from school may see
and walked to the shelter
of a wall
of a bombed out house

and they both sat down
he took out a packet
of cigarette papers
( liberated from

his old man)
and pulled out
a paper and shoved
the packet of papers

back in the pocket
of his jeans
and taking a pinch
of tobacco from the bag

he fingered it
in a straight line
into the cigarette paper
then rolled it

as he’d seen
his old man do
then licked the end
to form a thin cigarette

Ingrid watched in silence
as his fingers moved
and his tongue licked
you’re not going to

smoke it are you?
she asked
he put the cigarette
between his lips

sure am
he said John Wayne like
but you’re only 9
she said

you’re only 9
and you’re watching
he replied
he took out a box

of Swan Vesta
(borrowed from
the cupboard at home)
and lit the cigarette

and puffed slowly
she waved a hand
as smoke came near
her face

my dad will smell that
on me
she said
and think it was me

smoking and tell me off
she said
beat you black and blue
Benedict thought

not said
he coughed and spluttered  
and took out
the cigarette

and blew smoke
from his mouth
and spat out phlegm
brownish yellow

if your old man hits you again
I’ll shoot him
full of cap smoke
he said

she laughed
and hit his arm
he flicked the cigarette
onto the bombsite

with a finger
and watched
as the smoke
he’d blown out

like a pale ghost
seemed to linger.

Across the road
from the underground station
next to the Christian tabernacle
you sat with Helen

on the standing wall
of a bombed out house
she clutched her doll
Battered Betty

looking around her
I've never been
on this bomb site before
she said

the people who lived here
must have been really scared
if they heard the siren in time
they may have got out

but some didn't of course
you said
trying to imagine
what the houses looked like

before the bombing
how the gardens
may have been well kept
may have had vegetables

and flowers growing
in the small beds
at the back of the house
a lady my mum knew

got blown up
and all they found
was her hand
with her wedding ring

still there
Helen said
******* up her nose
making her thick lens glasses

move on her nose
my mum said
she and her stepfather
used to hide

under the large oak table
in the kitchen
if they got caught out
by the bombing

you said
and Mum said her stepfather's bottom
was sticking out
at one end of the table

Helen laughed
you liked it when she laughed
it made dimples in her cheeks
and her eyes lit up

behind her glasses
best not tell Mum
I've been on the bomb site
Helen said

she said they're dangerous places
they are
you said
but hell what would life be

without a bit of danger?
what does your dad say
when you tell him
you've been on the bomb sites?

she asked
rocking Battered Betty
in her arms
nothing much

except not to wear
my best clothes on there
is that all?
she said

yes pretty much
you said
what about your mum?
you looked at her

her hair tied in two pigtails
her eyes large
beyond the lens
she says be careful

not to climb
you said
but you do
Helen said

you did it just now
to get up here
yes I know that
and you know that

but my mum needn't
you said
banging the back
of your shoes

on the wall gently
don't you tell
your mum everything
you do?

she asked
I do
you frowned
I try not to worry her

you said
doesn't she asked
what you've done or been?
yes but I needn't

tell her everything
you said
she has enough worries
without me adding to them

I think it best
I imagine other places
or things done
to keep her

from worrying
Helen shook her head
you have a strange
sense of truth

she said
holding Betty tight
to her chest
her chin resting

on the doll's head
how about an ice cream
at Baldy's​​​?
you said

Baldy's?
she said
where is Baldy's​?
the grocer shop

before you get
to the railway bridge
down Rockingham Street
you said

the owner is as bald as a coot
she laughed
ok
she said

and so you both
climbed down
from the wall
and walked down

and along
to the subway
and on to the shop
to get ice creams

she smiling
with her battered doll
you with your cowboy
shooting dreams.

He folds the newspaper,
puts it down, lights up
a cigarette.  The papers

still feed the usual crap,
withhold the truth, Joe
Public never gets to see

the real, the underlying
**** beyond the print.
Wars, big or small, have

the same underlying truth,
not seen or known except
those at the front or on

the ground, or those, like
him, who’ve seen the crap
the big boys at the top relay.

Bill inhales, as the young
guy in the bed beyond sleeps.
One of the perks, a good ****,

no shortage when you know
who to call and who is in
the know.  His father had

the U.S. flag framed neat on
the wall, spouted proudly
the American Way, dreamed

of things improving, sky’s
the limit, he used to say, in
that slow John Wayne way.

Bill exhales, flicks ash, thinks
on the young guy asleep,
the naked arm on the cover,

eyes shut, tight ****. He thinks
on that young guy in East Berlin
he rubbed out, spy or such,

never ask, do the job, keep it
short and clean. He inhales deep,
the latest involvement overseas,

waste of time and lives, he muses,
take out the top guys let the ****
sheep fall after. He closes his eyes.  

He recalls the time JFK smiled at
him in passing, just before the hit,
the week after. All hush hush, lips

sealed, none spoke, rumours spread.
Men dead. A ***** game it all is, he
sighs, opens his eyes, all *******, all lies.

Miss Maitland went
to the fancy dress party
dressed as a nun

Benedict went clothed
as a priest(Church
of England kind)

which made her
even more inaccessible
than before he thought

seeing her enter the hall
in her black and white habit
and that face

which echoed purity
her small slim fingers
raised as if to bless

those present
which included the host
dressed as the Devil in red

Miss Maitland walked
to the bar and ordered
a lemonade and gin

is that wise?
said the barman with a grin
she laughed

and he poured anyway
Benedict nodded
and she smiled

then talked to another
clothed as a monk
and laughed

and Benedict's hopes
(whatever they
may have been)

were he concluded
sunk
he sipped his beer

and walked and sat down
gazing at her
standing there

all her best bits
covered up
her tight ****

and delightful behind
gone from sight
now the Devil

was chatting her up
his tail hanging
from behind

his fingers holding
a red wine
Benedict sipped more

of his beer
saw her wander off
to talk with some girl

dressed
as a gangster's moll
right down to the 1920s

cloth of dress
and cut of hat
Benedict didn't fancy her

and that was that
he just wanted
Miss Maitland

sans her habit
of black and white
he liked her in her

tight jeans and top
with her fair hair
flowing free

or held back
in a pony tail
walking up and down

the aisle of the shop
serving customers
wiggling her behind

as she went talking
in her middle class prose
giving Benedict

a studious stare
and he studying her
thinking of his bed

at home
with him and her
lying there.

There were raised voices. Ingrid heard them. Her father's booming voice over her mother's screech. She stirred in her small bed. Pulled the blankets over her shoulder. Sheltered by the thick ex army coat of her father's on top of the blankets she snuggled down trying to shut out the sounds. It was Saturday, no school. She hated school, hated the tormenting kids, the lessons, the teacher bellowing at her. Only Benedict talked kindly to her, only he made her laugh, took her on adventures round and about, the bomb sites, the cinema, the swimming pool in Bedlam Park. The voices got louder, there was a sound of glass smashing. Silence followed, her mother's screeching began again, her father's booming voices trying to drown her out. Ingrid pulled the blankets tighter around her. She daren't go out along the passage until it was over. Even though she needed to ***, she held it in, thought of other things. Her wire framed glasses lay on the bedside cabinet her mother had bought at a junk shop. The thick lens were smeary, the wire frame slightly bent where her father's hand had clipped them when he slapped her about the head for talking out of turn. There was a small cut on her nose where the glasses had caught. A radio began to play, the voices had stopped. A door slammed. Her father had gone out. She poked her head out of the blankets. Music filtered through into her room from the radio. She got out of bed and stood on the wooden floor boards. Her clothes: dress, cardigan, underwear and socks were laid neatly on a chair where she'd folded them the night before. She opened the door of her bedroom and ventured down the passage to the toilet and shut the door and put the bolt across and sat down. The music played on. Her mother began to sing. She had weak voice, kind of like a child's. Ingrid played with her fingers. Pretended to knit, as her mother had unsuccessfully tried to show her, with imagined knitting needles. As she sat she felt the bruise on her left buttock. Her father's beating of a day or so ago. She knitted faster, fingers racing. She stopped dropped a stitch as her mother called it. She left the toilet and went to wash in the kitchen sink. She wished they had a bathroom like her cousin did. Her parent's bath was in the kitchen with a table that was let down when not in use. She washed in the cold water, her hands and face and neck. Dried on the towel behind the door. Her mother came in carrying a cup and saucer. She set it down on the draining board and looked at Ingrid. Get yourself some breakfast and then get dressed, if your father catches you in that state, he won't half have a go, her mother said. Ingrid went into the living room and got a bowl from the glass fronted cupboard and a spoon from the drawer and poured herself some cereals and added milk from a jug on the table and sat to eat. Her mother brought in a mug of tea for her and put it on the table and went off to the bedroom to make the bed. The music from the radio played on from the living room window she could see the streets below, the grass area beneath with the two bomb shelters left over from the War where she and other sat or climbed or played around. Over the street was the coal wharf where coal lorries and horse drawn wagons loaded up with sacks of coal. She ate her cereals. A train went across the railway bridge over the way;puffs of smoke rose in the air. Below boys played on the grass. One of the boys had offered her 6d to see her underwear, but she had refused. He shrugged his shoulders and said your loss and wandered off. 6d would have bought her sweets, a drink of pop, but she had her pride. She finished her breakfast and sipped her tea. Warm and sweet. She let her tongue swim in the tea. Benedict said he would buy her some chips after the morning film matinée at the cinema. Her mother said she would give her 9d for the cinema, but not to tell her father. As if she would, she mused, watching a horse drawn wagon leave the coal wharf. She drank the tea and took mug, spoon and bowl into the kitchen  and washed them up and left them on the draining board. She went to her bedroom and took off her nightdress. The mirror on the old dressing table showed a thin pale looking nine year old girl with short cut brown hair and squinting brown eyes. She only saw a blur. She put on her glasses and peered at herself. No wonder the boys laughed at her and the girls avoided her. Only Benedict was friendly to her. He said she was pretty. She couldn't see it, the prettiness. She turned. Over her thin shoulder she saw the bruises on her buttocks. Fading. Bluey greeny yellowish. She walked to get her clothes off the chair and began to dress. She wished she had a cleaner dress, she'd worn that one for nearly a week. The cardigan had holes and there were buttons missing. She did up what buttons there were and brushed her hair with the hairbrush her gran had given her. It had stiff bristles and a large wooden handle. She stood in front of the mirror and peered at herself. She put the 9d her mother had given her in her pocket. Ready or not Benedict would be there soon. He knocked his own special knock. Once her father answered and glared at Benedict and asked what he wanted. Benedict said, to see the prettiest girl in the world. Her father glared harder, Benedict simply smiled. How did he do that? How did he do that to her father? There was a tensive wait, her father glaring and Benedict looking passive. Then her father called her to the door and said, this here boy asked for the prettiest girl in the world; he must have got the wrong address. Ingrid went red and looked at Benedict. No, right address and girl, Benedict said,looking by her father's brawny arm at her. How she managed not to wet herself she didn't know. Her father just walked back indoors and left them to talk on the balcony without any more words and she never got a beating afterwards, either. Now she waited for that special knock. That rat-rat and rat-rat. She smiled at her reflection. Prettiest girl. Ugliest more like. Rat-rat and rat-rat. He was there. He'd come. She could hear his voice. She took one last look at herself in the mirror, wet fingered she dabbed at her hair. Time to go, time to get out of there. Her knight in jeans and jumper had come on a white horse to take her away; imaginary of course.

Miryam was sitting in the bar
of the base camp
outside Madrid

you sat next to her
on your second Bacardi
drawing on a smoke

she was sipping a glass
of white wine
where'd you get to last night?

she asked
thought you were going
to come to my tent?

thought your tent mate
would be there
you said

no we had a row
and she went to share
with Moaning Margaret

Miryam said
didn't know
you said

else I'd have come along
she sipped her wine
looking around the bar

spent a lonely night
she said
you exhaled smoke

and looked at her
taking in her frizzy
red hair

her eyes
her small tight ****
her tongue licking

the lips
I had that army guy
with me

you said
ex-army I should say
he got thrown out

why was that?
she asked
he didn't say

you said
and you thought on the guy
and how he went on and on

about his mother's new boyfriend
and how he felt pushed out
and the army life

was getting him down
and he did something
whatever and got

thrown out
Miryam drained her glass
I'm going now

where to?
you asked
my tent

she said
been a long day
touring around Madrid

you stumped out
your cigarette ****
in the glass ashtray

are you coming?
she asked
you looked uncertain

you don't have to
she said
I can always

sleep alone again
what if your tent mate
comes back?

you asked
she won't
Miryam said

too much was said
you drained your glass
and put it down

on the bar top
now?
don't you want to go

to the disco
in the other bar
by base camp?

no I'm tired
she said
ok

you said
see you later
later?

she moaned
I want to go to the disco
you said

she shrugged her shoulders
and stormed off
out the bar

into the night air
you went outside
and she had gone

between tents
into the darkness
disco music thumped

from the other bar
across the way
sounds of laughter

and voices calling out
and Bill waving to you
from his tent

on his way
to the other bar
his long wavy hair

caught in the breeze
and jeans with holes
or tears in the knees

and you thinking
of Miryam
in her tent alone

no longer waiting
maybe fuming
getting undressed

wanting you
not wanting to rest
and back at your tent

the army guy
lying there
full of woe

waiting for your return
to tell his tale
of life that fate

had sent
walking to
the other bar

(with Bill)
you wished you'd gone
to Miryam's tent.

Well
said Henry
that would kind
of bring out the worst in me

I mean seeing her there
in our bed
with that fat excuse
of a guy

with that flat nose
and gut like a hippo
sure I tried to see
her point of view

even sat down for a while
while she came out
with all the excuses
under the sun

while he
the fat guy
put his **** clothes back on
saying nothing

but sort of squeaky sounds
and she got out of bed
**** naked
her eyes on me

all the time
her **** hanging there
as she moved
off the bed

and began putting
her clothes back on
all the time yakking
about why this happened

and why that happened
and I sat there wondering
what I was doing
just sitting there watching

them dress
saying nothing
just thinking of her
and the fat guy doing it

on our bed
wondering what
they were thinking of
as they were at it

and what went through their minds
when I came into the apartment
and saw them there
in the bed

Henry sighed
his girl dressed quickly
and the fat guy
had problems

getting his pants
over his big ***
and so
Henry said

I saw it saw them at it
and they kind of broke apart
when I opened the door
he big eyes

mouth open
his hairy arms
wrapped about her
and she tried to cover

her **** with the bedsheets
so I just sat down
not knowing what to say
knowing it ought

to bring the worst
out of me
seeing all that
but it didn't

I just sat noticing
the fat guy's ***
how he was struggling there
I almost got to helping him

on with his pants
but no I didn't
I looked at my girl
the girl who

less than a week ago
was making out with me
making all the I love you sounds
and promises of forever

Henry took out a smoke
and lit up
his eyes focusing
on the girl

taking in her shaky hands
her mouth speaking
almost screaming at him
the fat guy managed

to get in his pants on
and then began
to put on his shirt
and Henry inhaled

and watched
and his girl finishing dressing
pushed her fingers
through her hair

and still Henry sat there
and like I said
Henry uttered
between inhalations

it should have made me wild
ought to have stirred me
into action
but all I could think of

was how comes
she was wearing those earrings
while ******* the guy
why those

she could have worn others
I mean there was those
blue ones her mother gave her
the ones like blue ***** hanging

from her ears
but no
she had to wear the ones
I bought her

and that began to get me angry
and I glared at her and him
and blew smoke at them
then I put the cigarette

in the saucer
by the lipsticked stained cup
got up and rammed
my fist into his fat gut

and he went down
moaning about his hernia
or something
and she stood there

open mouthed
hands behind her head
her body stiff
as she watched the fat guy

hit the floor
Henry rubbed his fist
gazing at his girl
as she sat down

on the edge of the bed
looking at him
her big eyes
like dark pools

where only the brave go
or **** fools.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he said
I am dressed
she said
well pull down

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

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

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

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

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

and put on her underwear
and pulled down
her clothing
there

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

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

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

she said  
someone might
have seen us
she said it mockingly

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

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

shame
she said
it might have been
entertaining

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

she smiled
she can count well
she said
he sighed

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

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

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

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

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

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

carried on
just above her head.

The nurse said
she's outside on the lawn
don't take her out
to the pub though

she's been banned
ok
you said
and trotted out

to the lawn
through the double doors
of the hospital
to where Julie

was sitting in a chair
by a white table
smoking
she was clothed

in a white dressing gown
and slippers
she sat with one leg
over the other

with one of her elbows
resting on the knee
did you bring me
any more ciggies?

she asked
when she saw you
yes
you said

and passed her the packet
you'd bought
at the railway station
thanks I am getting desperate

she said
I was on the point
of offering myself up
for a smoke earlier

but one of the porters
gave me one for nothing
cigarette that is
she said smiling

she put the packet
in the pocket
of her dressing gown
the nurse said

you'd been banned
from the pub
along the road
you said

Julie looked towards
the ward doors
which were open
to let in

the afternoon sunlight
and warmth
someone gave me a joint
and the landlord saw

and chucked us both out
and said I was banned
she inhaled deeply
on the cigarette

you saw how thin
she had become
her wrists seemed too thin
to hold her hands

she exhaled
now I can't have a drink
or **** or blow
my ****** nose

she ranted
looking at the horizon
of hospital buildings
and trees and sky

sorry about that
you said
not your fault
she said

I should have been more careful
should have said no
to a smoke of that ****
but I couldn't

she inhaled again
and you saw her thigh
where her dressing gown rose
as she moved her leg

it too had become thinner
are you eating properly?
you asked
you're becoming

like my father now
she said puffing out smoke
when he turns up
that is

you're thinner
you said
the hospital food is crap
she said

I'd rather starve
than eat some of it
she stubbed out
the cigarette ****

in an ashtray
on the table
looks like you have
you said

have you come to talk
about how thin I've become?
or to cheer me up?
to cheer you up

you said
she looked towards
the open ward doors
they've locked that cupboard

we went in last time
she said
do they suspect anything?
you asked

I guess so
she said
some of the nurses
make hints about it

call it the love room
just because they have a life
they deny me of one
you took out a cigarette

from a packet you had
in your pocket
and offered her one
and take one yourself

she lights hers
with a red lighter
then lights yours
you both sit smoking

sitting in silence
watching the smoke rise
she thinking
of another place to ****

you wondering how far
she'd fallen
from her middle class home
through drugs at some party

and the long ride down
the slippery *****
she thinking of no ***
no ***** no dope.

On the way back
from the cinema
with your old man

one Friday night
he stopped
at the fish and chip shop

and ordered chips
in salt and vinegar
in a large bag

and walked home
down Meadow Row
he talking of the films

you'd seen
how he once met
the actress

in some film festival
up West
you were thinking

of the cowboy
in the film
and how well

he drew his gun
especially using
his right hand

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

and you thought
I must try that
when I get home

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

the actor( not
the cowboy guy
some other)

in the theatre once
in some play
you thought

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

cross over drawing
of the gun
to a fine art

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

with her mouth open
as you did
your show piece

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

maybe you'd wear
both guns
one on each side

the old man was still
yakking on
about this actress

but you were imagining
Ingrid sitting there
on the grass

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

and how good
the cowboy was
and you saw her

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

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

with her eyes wide open
her hands
like sleeping doves

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

a crimson mark
from her father's
hard slap.

Having run across the field
to the river’s edge
she sat down on the grass
and he followed

out of breath
and sat beside her
she laughed
told you couldn’t catch me

Milka said
I can run like a gazelle
Naaman breathed in deep
Holding his groin

I gave you a head start
he said
I still won though
she said

pleased with herself
only just
he said
she lay back

on the grass
he watched her breathe
her chest rising
and falling slowly

she had her hands
over her stomach
her short fair hair
mixed with the green grass

she smiled
what are you looking
at me for?
I like looking at you

he said
why?
he looked at the river
because I do

must be a reason
she said
looking at him
with her dark eyes

I think of you
when I’m not with you
and so I need
to capture the image

of you for when
you’re not here
he said
do you think of me

all the time?
she asked
pretty much
he said

my brothers will think you
have gone soft
she said
he looked away

trees blew slightly
in the wind
the clouds were moving slowly
only with regards

to you
he said
he gazed at her
lying there

her legs raised
heels flat on the grass
her skirt showing
her thighs

I dream of you
she confessed
most nights
and pretend Teddy is you

and squeeze him tightly
near to me
so that he is right
against my *******

lucky Teddy
Naaman said smiling
taking in her lips
slightly parted

her teeth
just visible
poor Teddy
only has one ear now

and my mother
has sewn his arm on
many times
Milka said

Naaman lay down
on the grass
next to her
laying his hand

on her arm
feeling her pulse
her warmth
maybe you treat him

too roughly
Naaman said
she smiled
her lips spreading wide

well you’re not there
and he is a poor substitute
she said
I can’t be there

he said
your mother
seldom leaves the house
and if she is out

your father is there
or your brothers
besides you’re too young
for such things

what things?  
she asked
looking at him
trying to look serious

ask Teddy
he said
I’m 14
only 2 years

younger than you
she informed
I know
he said

your brother told me
when we were practising judo
last weekend
does he know you see me?

he knows I take you out
but he thinks I do so out of pity
because I feel sorry for you
she laughed

putting her hands
over her mouth
to stop the loudness
of her laughter

he thinks that?
Naaman nodded
what’s he think we do
pick flowers and watch butterflies?

he thinks we go see
the peacocks
he said
we do

she said
but not this
not what we did
last Sunday

Naaman added
we just kissed
nothing else
she said

more than he thinks
or your mother
he said
she looked at the river

the water flowing slow
best then
she said softly
they don’t know.

It was her half day off work
and your afternoon
between shifts
and she had come

to the house
while others were out
at school and work
and after talking

about her job
and the manager
being a pain
and the work

so different from school
you both made love
in your upstairs bed
and afterwards

as she lay there
looking out the window
on the left hand side
she said

my mother will wonder
why I'm home late
on my half day off
you looked at the grey sky

through the windowpane
sensing her beside you
feeling her arm
touching yours

what will you tell her?
you asked
well not
that I've made love to you

she said
turning and smiling at you
why not?
you said jokingly

o yes and never see you again
probably be locked up
in the tower
if we had one

she said  
she leaned over
and kissed you
and you smelt soap

and toothpaste
and her hair
brushed against
your forehead

I'll say the manager
wanted me to stay behind
and such and such
she said

laying back
her head on the pillow
you lay your hand
on her thigh

felt her smooth skin
and would he ask you
to stay behind
for such and such?

you asked
maybe to stock shelves
if any of the other girls
weren't in

but not for such and such
she added laughing
you thought back
to the first time you

had kissed her
that Christmas while out
carol singing
with the choir from church

and it seemed
as if angels sang nearby
rather than the choir
and you caught her eyes

in the moonlight
sparkling like stars
in small oceans
what time will your mother

be home from work?
she asked
you looked
at the alarm clock

on the dressing table
at the foot of the bed
about half hour
you said

God we'd best get up
and dressed
she said
or she'll be here

and what would she say
if she saw us thus?
probably hope you
made up the bed

after you
you said
o yes I'm sure she would
I know she's a lovely lady

but I don't think
she'd say that
you both got off the bed
and began to dress

and you watched her
thinking of the times
at school when you used
to gaze at her

across the classroom
wondering as she sat there
what she looked like
without her clothes

or what colour her underwear
and now you knew
(she like some latter day Eve)
and you

her long lost Adam
sans fig leaf or shame
once dressed
she helped you make the bed

and you saw her downstairs
and out into the garden
with the chilly sun
and God's pardon.

He spoke of love
And dead men’s ease,
Of those Degas paintings
And young dame’s knees,
He thought of logic

And Wittgenstein,
French food and Spanish wine,
Smoked cigars
And bedded ******
He spoke with girls

And college bores,
He kissed and laughed,
And occasionally bathed
With those he loved
And thought of much

Like him and her
And such and such
And others whose names
He’s quite forgotten
Whom he treated well

Or treated rotten
Or never treated at all
But let them fall
From grace of God
To whom he seldom prayed

And rarely trod.
He spoke of hate
And dead men’s grief
And waited death
And death’s relief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he said
why not?
she said
I'm nothing

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

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

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

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

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

semi clothed
he listened
but only half heartedly
he wanted

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

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

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

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

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

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

her thumb
rubbed his hand
she became silent
words stopped

she leaned in
and they kissed
lips touched
tongues tongued

hands held
squeezed
they parted
she looked back

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

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

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

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

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

poor girl probably
he said
she laughed
no seriously

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sutcliffe walked
in a kind of shuffling his heels
kind of way
with hands in his pockets

and school tie undone
and hanging loose
you’d walked home
from school with him

as O’Brien was off
with dysentery
I find that pottery teacher
a bit of a ****

he said
the way he held up
your work
in that dismissive way

to show you up
you shrugged your shoulders
I hate rolling out
the messing clay

and I’ve no idea
how to make a pissy ***
than how to make
a pie like my mother’s

he’s a pockmarked
****** anyway
Sutcliffe said
and the fecking car

he drives to school
that red sports job
you came to the road
where Sutcliffe lived

and waited
I’ll surprise him one day
you said
I’ll make him

the fecking ***
he wants
Sutcliffe laughed
and shuffled up

the stairs to his flat
with a wave of his hand
and nod of his
blonde haired head

you walked over
the crossing
and down Meadow Row
by the bombed out houses

Ingrid was sitting
on the kerb
with her face
in her hands

she looked up
at the sound
of your approach
what’s a matter

with you sitting there
all glum?
you said
no one’s indoors

I’m locked out
she said
where’s your parents?
you asked

no idea
I knocked and knocked
but no one answered
she said

have to wait now
until they come back
when will that be?
you asked

God knows
she said
last time it was late
as they went to the races

and mum forgot
to leave me
the front door key
and I had to wait

out in the cold
on the stairs
until they got back
you should have knocked

at our door
Mum’d got you
something to eat
and you would

have been warm
by our fire
you said
didn’t want to disturb anyone

she said
she looked at the road
and closed her eyes
well come home

with me now
Mum won’t mind
and she’ll tell
your parents

where you are
when they get back
you said
he won’t like it

she said
tough *****
you said
she laughed

and got out
of the kerb
and stood
next to you

are you sure
your mum won’t mind?
of course she won’t
ok

she said
and you both walked down
Meadow Row
and crossed over

to the flats
through the Square
you knew your mum
wouldn’t mind

she knew Ingrid’s parents
and knew their ways
and faults
and his drunken voice

and pushed back hat
but as you walked
with Ingrid up the stairs
you never told her that.

Dennis watched
as Miss Richie
slapped your face
and then stormed off

what was that for?
Dennis said
you rubbed your cheek
fire hot

I guess she didn't like
what I said
you replied
what did you say?

he asked
I asked her
if it was her face
or was she breaking it in

for an ape
you said
Dennis laughed
his green/blue eyes lit up

like pinball lights
what made you say that?
he said
because she would me up

and said I had a discarded look
you said
maybe you have
he said

maybe I have
but that's my face
not hers
you said

the bell rang
for morning break
and so you went down
the back stairs with him

and into the playground
and took out
your football player cards
and set down

by the far wall
and joined in the game
of flicking cards
nearest the wall

but Derek won
the first lot
and you lost
your favourite

and watched
as he handed them
into his winning pack
over in the other corner

plump Miss Richie was standing
arms folded
glaring at you
any more

for any more?
Derek said
count me in
you said

taking more cards
out of your jacket pocket
and along with Dennis
and Derek and Richard

you flicked your cards
and the game
was in play once more
Dennis's card won

and he collected the cards
on the ground
by the wall
that's me out of cards

you said
and wandered off
to where Ingrid
sat alone

by the playground steps
hair pinned back
with metal grips
her grey skirt stained

her cardigan holey
with missing buttons
her eyes brightened
when she saw you

saw you lost cards
she said
yes not my day
you said

not mine either
she said
what's up?
you said

I lost my dinner money
she said
and dad will **** me
when he finds out

where'd you lose it?
you said
don't know
I went to get it

from my bag
and it was gone
she said tearfully
you put your hand

in your trouser pocket
and took out a 2/6d coin
here have mine
you said

I can't
she said
what will you do
about your dinners?

I'll tell my mum
I lost it
you said
but she'll get angry

with you
Ingrid said
yes but she'll not **** me
or harm me

unlike your old man
you said
she took the coin
and put it

in her cardigan pocket
thank you
she said
no other boy

would do that for me
they don't like me
and call me names
she said

I like you
you said
and walked up
the stairs

to the boys' toilets
wondering how to tell
your mother
you'd lost your coin

on that Monday morning
on your way to school
as you opened the door
and entered the stall.

Walking away
from the church
down the narrow lane
her sister with another

up front
she said
my mother seems to think
there's something going on

between me and you
what something?
you asked
she looked up front

some one has talked
of you and me
she said
your sister?

you asked
maybe
who else?
you smelt the blossoms

from the overhanging trees
heard bird song
from the hedges
a car went by

church goers
returning home
to lunch or dinner
but what has she said?

you asked
how do I know?
she said
but now my mother

watches me like a hawk
and if it wasn't
that I'm church going
and in the choir

she wouldn't let me out
of her sight
she sighed and looked away
what happens now?

you asked
be careful that's all
she said
what about now here

and us walking together?
she grabbed your hand
and squeezed it
and pulled you to her

and she kissed you
quickly and firmly
that
she said

that and more
and you walked
as if on air
trying to grab

the moment
trying to stuff it away
in your memory box
for later times

her sister looked back
then away again
maybe she's jealous?
you said

maybe she's just trying
to get into mother's
good books
she said

that time
in the woods
behind your house
that time I sneaked out

and we went in the woods
down by the pond
and sat and talked
and we kissed

and stuff
yes
you said
then I think someone saw us

and told her
another car went by
someone waved
you both waved back

it was a good time there
the peaceful pond
the ducks
the birds overhead

that woodpecker we heard
and you thought
of that moment
when as she lay there

in the grass
and you looked down
at her there
that Russian peasant look

about her
that love felt
and her lips
speaking soft

like wings flapping
of butterflies
you saw in her eyes
the white clouds

and blueness
of the skies.

Two sets of pram wheels
a plank(some kid's dad
brought that)

a wooden cross beam
a nut and bolt
to hold

the cross beam
in place
a piece of rope

(Ingrid gave that
an old skipping rope)
an orange box

and the go-cart
was ready
by the bike shed

and Jimmy said
I best drive it first
as I'm the eldest

ok
you said
Ingrid said nothing

she looked at Jimmy
hands in her
cardigan pockets

biting her lip
Ingrid supplied the rope
you said

she deserves
a ride too
sure sure

Jimmy said
climbing
into the orange box

and taking up the ropes
into his hands
right you push

he said
I brought
my mum's prop stick

Ingrid said
you can push with that
she pointed

to a long pole
by the shed door
yes ok

Jimmy said
so you took up
the pole and placed it

in the back
of the plank
and began to push it

through the Square
Ingrid stood watching
as you pushed

the go-cart
at running speed
on on

Jimmy said
and he steered
the go-cart

around the Square
as you ran faster
then let go

and the go-cart
went at its own volition
and you walked

and stood by Ingrid
will he let me ride it?
she asked

he will
you said
or I'll not

push him again
you watched
as the go-cart

slowed down
and Jimmy drove it up
to the bike shed

where it came
to a stop
why'd you stop pushing?

he asked
couldn't push any faster
you said

it needs constant pushing
he said

I'm not a machine
you said
he sat looking

at Ingrid
she can push
he said

she's a girl
you said
I can push

she said
and she took the pole
and shoved it

at the back
of the plank
and began to push it

off as best she could
with Jimmy steering
along by the sheds

and off once more
into the Square
and you watched

her push
her hands tight
around the pole

her legs running
as fast as she could
and there

as she ran
and her skirt rose
you saw red marks

on her thigh
her old man's work
you said with a sigh

then it was gone
as she ran down
the *****

and out of sight
with the sound of Jimmy
cheering her on.

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.