After Sammy Left.
Dottie has the made the
bed where Sammy slept,
bakes a cake, picks flowers
from the garden to put in
the small vase on the table.
Sammy has gone away
after his three day stay.
Willie's asleep in bed,
his window open to catch
dawn birdsong, smell of
flowers, air's heavy scent.
She pops a pill that Sammy
left; will help you sleep he
said, during their late evening
walk in the nearby woods,
as Willie recited his poetry.
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poem by Terry Collett
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Kenton Comes to Tea
Kenton comes to tea.
Dunne serves at table.
Kenton knew Hazel
even as a child.
Her late father's friend
watches Dunne pour tea
into his teacup.
Your dear father's death
was quite sudden he says.
We were in Paris
touring when news came
Hazel says softly.
Who was the other?
Kenton asks Hazel.
Dunne here my maid came.
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poem by Terry Collett
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By the Sword.
Your father made you
a sword out of metal
at the place he worked
and brought it home
one night after work
and gave it to you
after tea and said
Be careful how you use it
I don't want you using it
dangerously
ok
you said
and went off
with the heavy sword
into the spare room
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poem by Terry Collett
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The Drying of Hair.
Jane's mother gave you both
a towel from the airing cupboard
after you had been caught
in the rain
running from the church porch
to the parsonage
and then she went off
to carry on
with her pie making
and Jane took you
along the hallway
to her bedroom
and opened the door
and after you had entered
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poem by Terry Collett
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Is She In Love?
Is she in love with you
or what? Reynard said
indicating across
at the girl
at the other side
of the classroom
every time I look up
she's peering over
here like some hawk
after prey
he added
and you guessed
she was
but didn't say
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poem by Terry Collett
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Beneath the Blue.
You both walked along
the narrow country lane
to the small church
and lay in the overgrown grass
in the churchyard
looking up
at the summer sky
and Jane said
It's so peaceful here
I feel as if part of me
were mixed
with the whole
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poem by Terry Collett
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broken and Numb.
She knows these are her
Last moments with her still
Born babe knows they'll take
The babe away and leave
Her arms empty like the
Cradle at home standing
In the nursery especially
Prepared with the wallpaper
Chosen and the new carpets
Laid and she hugs the babe
Close to her breasts tries to
Bring warmth to the lifeless
Bundle wrapped in a white
Blanket and we'll be back in
A while the nurse had said
and she left the small room
and the door clicked shut
With a small click and she
Walks the room rocking
The babe feeling the weight
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poem by Terry Collett
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As Per Usual
It'll not be the first time he'll
Have said that and not meant
It and she knows oh how she
Knows that he will probably
Say it again and bring her the
Usual flowers and maybe a new
Dress two sizes too big for her
And have that look on his face
That look he used to give his
Mother when he was late home
Or if he'd not noticed her having
Had her hair done and she knows
He'll get down on his knees and
Pretend to beg for forgiveness
Yet at the back of his mind he's
Already imagining the girl in the
Office bent over her desk and him
Doing what he thinks he does best
And now as she waits for him to
Come home knowing he'll have
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poem by Terry Collett
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Scavenging For Coal
At the back
of the coal wharf
you and Fay
picked up coal pieces
that fell through
the iron railings
and put them
in an old bag from home
Fay looked
at her blackened fingers
and said
if my daddy sees
these fingers
and finds out
what I've been doing
he'll spank me
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poem by Terry Collett
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Geraldine's Bus Ride to Work
Geraldine rides the bus to work.
She sways side to side with the
motion of the bus, sitting in the
compact human zoo, faces, limbs,
bodies, eyes, mouths. The sky
outside is an early morning icy blue.
A man opposite stares, his eyes
moving over her, his hands in his
lap, fingers playing with each other.
His eyes settle on her legs, drink
them in. She feels as if he were
undressing her, taking each item of
clothing off one by one. His eyes
are dark, deep set. She stares back
at him, takes in his lips, parted, thick
and saliva sits there. Her thoughts
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poem by Terry Collett
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