Monday 29 March 2010

Lust.




We couldn’t hear the wailings

of the betrayed nor the calm

breathing of the innocents.


Our heads thrown back

singing to Satan - you

wide open, over the baby

grand, on the stairs,

in your shower.


Always so hungry

never satiated - I adored

the taste of you -

the smell of you.


Much later we lay

rotting in the shadow

of our guilt.




Sunday 7 March 2010

The clamour of Sundays.


Nine o’clock church

bells always come

like the seasons.


I went to Church now

and then a Baptism, a wedding

or two,

buried my child.


Once, I waited at the

Vicarage,

hoping for someone.


I might have been an

ancient druid

stomping around some

ruins marching


time.

A lifetime.


And to think one day
I’ll lie down with them.

Maybe I’ll get the news
reel thing going on
remembering.

My mam and dad,
sisters and brothers.

Us staying awake all night fucking
ourselves silly in Skeggy.

Our children-
living and dying.

Lying down at last with
the rest of them.

Thinking it didn’t last long
that -
lifetime.