Ill

I’ll never forget

that neon night we met

You were too good for me

at first

But not later.

We could have done anything

If only we’d co-operated.

Time passed

Love rotted

You threatened I’d be 40 and alone

Instead you’re 30, in a mental home

What were you thinking

When you took - a knife…?

or scissors

to your dick?

I’m sorry you’re so sick

I’m sorry

for a lot.

But not for everything.

____________

Blossom

Today

I watched

the cars bleed

on

the pavement

And

the trees

were weeping

softly on

the cars

Red and

pink drops

filled

the gutter

Bright

and deep

as

recent scars.



__________

Father's Day

The posters in shop windows

order me to buy a card.

They tell me how to feel.              

They describe you like this:

You’re special

Number one dad

The best dad in the world.

They remark;

Thanks for being there.

There are cards for dads who like

Golf, gardening, DIY

There are cards with cartoons,

motorbikes

and racing cars.

Cards filled with sentimental slop

and silly jokes.

These cards speak a shared language,

Between sender and sendee.

Dad, I love you.

Dad, take it easy

Dad deserves a day off.

But where are the cards for un-special dads

For the worst dad in the world?

The ones who took a lifetime off

Where are the cards for the dads who failed?

Where are the cards for the dead dads,

the rubbish dads, the missing dads

the violent dads?

The dads we don’t love, or can’t like.

I want a card that says

‘You fucked it up.’

Maybe then you’ll stop calling.

________

TV times

Imagine

if you saw

all the bad times in your life

played out

in sequence,

like the highlights on

Big Brother.

Every time you’d let someone down

Every time you’d picked a fight

Every time you’d acted like a little brat

despite being a grown woman

to get your own way.

Would you vow to change

or just worry that

your hair looks a bit funny.

______________________

Tonight

 

Tonight

we’ll put cucumber hats

on our cucumber heads

and cucumber pads

over cucumber eyes

we’ll drink cucumber wine

and eat cucumber pie

under slices of light

we’ll get cucumber high

then all that we own

will turn green

and then white

and we’ll run through our dreams

into cucumber night.

_________________

Care

Sunk deep

in a cheap stuffed

chair

Takes two

Just to prop you up

And those two

who wipe you down

and feed your mouth

think you’re frail.

Remember the baseball bat

Behind the door you

used on my brothers?

You used

something else

on my mum.

You don’t remember;

can’t remember

But I do.

And I’m happy you’re like this

From rotten to rotting

I hope it drags out.

Your pain.

____________________

Lost

What happened to the letter

You wrote to your parents

That breezy letter

like they were a pen-pal

Or a dear friend.

I was in awe of that letter

The tone of it was just right

You told them about me, about Yarmouth,

and Brighton

You hoped they were OK

And you didn’t want anything from them.

I wept when you showed me it

and said you didn’t mind if they didn’t reply.

You said it so convincingly.

What happened to the letter?

That should have been the letter

They’d been waiting for

For 15 years.

Did they even open it?

Did your mother weep, like I did

Why didn’t she reply?

Lost in the mail once, maybe, but you sent it twice

Unless they were dead.

Your dad is 80.

But then, wouldn’t someone have told you?

What happened to the letter?

How can you turn love off?

I wonder about curiosity and

Maternal and paternal instinct.

I wish they could know you

Like I know you.

Like I love you.

If I had their address, I wouldn’t send

a letter

I’d send a bomb.

________________