Lie there he would, eyes closed.

Burp. Fart, like I wasn’t there.

Eggin me on to say somethin.

And if I did. If ever I did,

you know, say what I thought

He’d be up in a flash.

Because that’s what he wanted

Me to say somethin. Lose my temper.

I’d goaded him, you see. Asked for it.

‘You asked for it,’ he’d say

Afterwards, in bed, me, sobbin.

A fresh bruise on an old swellin.

Not on the face. He never hit me

on the face. Too calculatin.

Always the body. Stomach, kidneys

He used to be one of you, see.

He knew where to hit.

Cold. Always, in control.

But tonight, I took control.

Picked up the breadknife.

He was gettin ready to let one go

I could see that.

The veins in his neck standin out

Throbbin. White against the purple.

Eyes behind closed lids, flickerin

Waitin to jump out on me.

So I… er stabbed him. Just the once.

He farted and screamed at the same time.

I know that sounds funny, but it wasn’t

Not at the time. Not with the blood.

He rolled off of the sofa

Hunched on his knees, holdin the knife.

Not tryin to pull it out

Just holdin it. Like keepin it in.

Then he keeled over and that was that.

I put my coat on and came down here

And what I want to know is…

What’s goin to happen to the kids?

No Surprises

He wakes when the sun rises

Gets up Exercises

Breakfasts with one whom he despises

Chooses one of his disguises

and his gun Fires his

first bullet It paralyses

Drives into town Terrorizes

Armed police in visors

materialize His demise is

swift No surprises.

4

Crazy Bastard

I have always enjoyed the company of extroverts.

Wild-eyed men who would go too far

Up to the edge, and beyond. Mad, bad women.

Overcautious, me. Sensible shoes and a scarf

Tucked in. I never courted Danger

For fear of being rebuffed: ‘Piss off, Four Eyes.’

Midsummer’s eve in the sixties.

On a moonlit beach in Devon we sit around a fire

Drinking wine and cider. Someone strumming a guitar.

Suddenly, a girl strips off and runs into the sea.

Everybody follows suit, a whoop of flickering nakedness

Hot gold into cold silver. Far out.

Not wanting to be last in I unbutton my jeans.

Then pause. Someone had better stay behind

And keep an eye on the clothes. Common sense.

I throw another piece of driftwood on to the fire

Above the crackle listen to the screams and the laughter

Take a long untroubled swig of scrumpy. Crazy bastard.

Your Favourite Hat

Believe me when I tell you that

I long to be your favourite hat

The velvet one. Purply-black

With ribbons trailing at the back

The one you wear to parties, plays,

Assignations on red-letter days

Like a bat in your unlit hall