From You Fall.
The two catholic priests sat
in the Breakfast Room
off the refectory
in the abbey.
They looked up
when you entered
then continued
their conversation
about Dante
and you poured
yourself a coffee
and a small bowl
of Cornflakes
with a little milk
and sugar.
You sat down
and sipped the coffee.
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poem by Terry Collett
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Ash Wednesday Once
Ash Wednesday. The dab of ash
On the forehead by the old priest.
The way his shaking thumb pushed
It there. Lent begun. What are you
Going to give up? Peggy asked him
Afterwards on the way from church.
I haven’t thought about it Henry replied.
You ought to she said. The feel of the
Priest’s thumb still itched his forehead.
And what to put in its place in case the
Devil creeps in she added giving him a
Sideward glance. He sensed her glance.
Last year I gave up the smokes he said.
For two days she said. It was a try he
Muttered. No point trying if you don’t
Have the will to succeed. He kept quiet.
There was that perfume of hers coming
To him on the wind. The perfume she
Wore that day they had sex in the school
Gym during the lunch hour before double
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poem by Terry Collett
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What Might Have Been.(Poem)
You had been in Tangiers
until the early hours
of the morning
and was brought back
to base camp on the truck
as the sun was beginning to rise
over the horizon
and had then gone
to crash down
in your tent
too tired to undress
and slept through
until midday
then showered
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poem by Terry Collett
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Might Have Known
I might have known
said Dotty
I might have known
you were just like
all the rest of men
but
said Brintskin
don't you but me
you slime snake
Mother always said
men weren't
to be trusted
and she was right
I should have listened to her
instead going off with men
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poem by Terry Collett
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Bombsite Conversation.
Fay sat beside you
on the concrete stairs
of Banks House
looking out
into the Square
where young girls
played skip rope
or boys having toy guns
reenacted WW2
taking no prisoners
firing noisy cap guns
and Fay said
where shall we go?
where do you want to go?
you said
away from the noisy guns
and skip rope games
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poem by Terry Collett
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As It Was
Ginny loved it
when the time came
For their annual trip
to the seaside
And her father rented
the house with the big garden
that lead onto the sea.
She and her brothers and sister
Looked forward to it
every year and it seemed the sun
shone almost constantly
And the house seemed
as it was the year before
nothing changed nothing new
just the same rooms
and outlook and young Lily the maid
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poem by Terry Collett
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What Celia Saw in the Back of a Spoon
Celia looked at her reflection
In the back of the spoon;
Her face was blown outward
As if captured on some balloon.
It almost made her laugh;
The memory of it;
How she and her sister Sassy
Would do that as kids,
Before the dark days,
Before her death in a bath.
That drowning, that sad death.
Sassy's husband had beaten her
Black and blue and green
And she'd hide herself away
So as not to be seen.
But she'd seen her,
Seen the bruises
Like smudged tattoos,
The closed eyes,
The swollen lips,
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poem by Terry Collett
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I Am As Nothing.
I am as nothing, said Sister Clare;
I am a tool in the Lord’s hands, His
Words wake me from sleep, His
Utterance disperses my dreams.
I wake to the birds’ chorus, the sun
Rises at my elbow, the moon goes
As my eyes take sight. I dress while
Uttering an Ave, wash the night from
My eyes and skin, sense the waters’
Coldness through my fingers’ hold.
From my window I see the cranberry
Tree in the cloister garth; early birds
Perched in the branches, sunlight
Flittering through the green leaves.
Sister Blaise stares up at the sky, her
Hands hidden beneath her habit’s cloth,
Her head to one side. God sees all, my
Mother said, He knows you better than
You know yourself, knows your thoughts
Like a well read book, He understands
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poem by Terry Collett
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Maundy Thursday and Later.
Maundy Thursday. The church
Was packed. Full of incense.
Miss Dogberry sat at the back.
Mudrift watched her. He studied her.
The way her hair hung black and long.
Her broad bridged nose. Sat next to her.
She unaware. Priest proceeded with
The service. Miss Dogberry smelt Mudrift’s
Scent passions were stirred. She sniffed
Heavy her nose breathed deep. A bell
Was tolled. Candles were lit. Mudrift felt
Love or was it lust? Moved closer his thigh
Touched her thigh. Priest’s hands were
Raised host lifted high the Crucified the
Bloodied lamb. Miss Dogberry whispered
Softly do you sense it? Mudrift nodded
His loins stiffened. The last supper the Judas
Gone the Magdalene followed him out.
My place or yours? Mudrift muttered.
Mother’s at home Dogberry said no privacy.
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poem by Terry Collett
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Janice and You and the Stars
Janice watched
as you held on
to the ledge
of the ice-cream van
to see how long
you could hold on
in that dare game
the boys played
in the Square
and after
you jumped off
she said
isn't that dangerous?
sure it is
you replied
that's the point
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poem by Terry Collett
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