Tuesday, 28 June 2011


I watched
the cars bleed
the pavement
the trees
were weeping
softly on
the cars
Red and
pink drops
the gutter
and deep
recent scars.


Sunday, 19 June 2011

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,
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.


Friday, 10 June 2011

TV times

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.


Wednesday, 1 June 2011


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.