Or that this was the den of the thief.

But it was our Narnia of food fights at midnight,

Wet flannel battles in the halls,

Fire extinguishers that lose their heads.

We had nothing to lose – nothing at all.

But the rattle of rules and keys

Broke the magic – we all knew it couldn’t last.

The alarm bells rang and rang and rang

In Emergency Break The Glass

And it’s no fun any more in here.

The keys in cupboards, slamming security doors,

Each child slowly retracts inside their self,

Whispering, ‘What am I being punished for?’

We’d been given booby-trapped time-bombs,

Trigger wires hidden, strapped on the inside.

It became a place of controlled explosions,

Self-mutilation, screams and suicide,

Of young people returned, return to sender.

Half-light dorms of midnight’s moans –

We might well have all been children

But this was never a children’s home.

Walking in Circles

Walking in Circles

These compressed patches of earth.

Her footsteps deepened

And I found myself, raising my knee

To follow in them,

Raising my elbows

To climb over them,

Bracing myself

To jump in them.

Who was she

That left imprints

Deeper than myself?

Wiping sweat from the crease

Between cheek and nose

With a dirty hand, I

Mumble, why so deep?

Wait for me.

Why so deep?

Later I realised

That without meeting

We’d been walking

In circles, stamping our imprints.

Every now and then I would

Hear her wheezing, trying to climb

Over her own imprint

And jump into the next.

My Dad Is a Pilot

My Dad Is a Pilot

My dad is a pilot. Everybody knows that.

He wore a green pilot’s suit and he wore a pilot’s hat.

He was never more at home, he was never more free

Than flying past the cities or skimming past the sea.

He flew past the Simien mountains, past even the stars.

He flew far my dad did. He flew far.

He flew past Ethiopia of night and of day.

He passed my past. He flew right past

And then he passed away.

Guilt

Guilt

Cold winds have frozen us,

Walls of fear closed on us.

The sky has fallen down on us,

And fear it has frowned on us.

The lightning has dumbfounded us,

A dust cloud surrounded us.

The rain it pours down on us,

Pain has been found on us.

Secrets they have bound us,

Anointed and then crowned us.

Whispers race around us,

Fingers point down on us.

Fists beat and pound on us,

Our reflections astound us.

Fear it compounds us,

Defences surround us.

Frustrations hound us,

Guilt has found us.

Sandwich Love

Sandwich Love

Triangular sandwiches lounge on plates.

They don’t guffaw, gawp or gesticulate.

They kiss each other lip to salivating lip.

They don’t posture, pose and stylishly sip.

They don’t have calling cards, and though well dressed

Have no need or will for public address.