Tuesday, 24 May 2011


Sunk deep
in a cheap stuffed
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.


Tuesday, 3 May 2011


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.