Saturday, 9 April 2011


Introduction: This poem is about a little boy. He's out there somewhere in the real world but this is my re-imagining of his tale. His name was...


I stare 
into your tortoiseshell eyes like feline's fur,
I run my fingers through your hair
like sand dunes on that same beach where
Mummy and Daddy first had a 'disagreement'.
I was scared.
You held my hand, said that life's not fair,
said that Daddy's angry, but not to care,
he charged at Mummy, his knuckles bare,
Things were wrong but I couldn't see it.

I counted
the cars in the driveway, Mummy's green,
Daddy's black van nowhere to be seen.
My eyes were red in the wing-mirror,
behind me, you stand with an outstretched hand.
A fountain
in a park, watching water glide.
Your hushed whisper, your arms open
wide, you cocoon me, but I glance to one side.
Daddy's here - my screams fall away, just sand.

I recall
the morning, I poured my Rice Krispies,
dressed myself, brushed my teeth all too quickly.
I was a good girl but Daddy found me,
he hit me, said that to him I'll always be dead.
That's not all.
When he'd finished with me, left my bones in my bed -
Said that he'd find you instead.
My head turned in a whirlwind has Mummy
left? "I'm afraid too, Mummy," I said.

I tip-toed downstairs like you told me to,
If he ever laid his hands on you,
Put my hand on the doorknob but I couldn't do
it. No, I'll never leave you to die.
By grunts and splashing I was led
to the kitchen, why is the tap-water red?
With his iron ape's arms he held your head
underwater. No need to ask why.

I would
have picked up the phone by its neck
and called someone but none were left.
I'm a coward, I don't want his breath
all over my own skin.
A wooden
cupboard under the stairway,
he grasped your throat, blocked your airway.
As he shut the door, looked at me as if to say:
You're next and you know it.

A shriek.
Then silence, still as glass.
You don't emerge but Daddy does.
Please don't hurt me, don't be rough,
Just be quick, get the gun.
I'm weak.
I curl in a ball and cover my eyes,
If I can't see him, he'll get a surprise
when he can't see me. I hear a deep sigh,
Through spread fingers, I seem him run.

The longest day
has passed when I rise on unsteady feet.
Uncertain of what sight I'll meet.
I approach the cupboard, take a peek.
Your eyes stare but they don't see me.
I kneel at your side, put an ear to your chest.
Take life with a pinch of lemon zest
you'd say to me, you always knew best.
Sleep easy, dear brother, sleep easy.

How I wish I could save you,
I laid one lily on your grave to
Make you feel the same to
The soil in our garden.

Don't go.


- This poem has no particular significance to me personally, I have just come across many interesting books about child abuse on my unit such as 'Child C' by Christopher Spry and 'Don't tell Mummy' by Toni Maguire. Awfully sad and disturbing but all the same fascinating and informative reads if you've never checked them out. Be warned: Those books are not for young eyes.

Thanks and sorry my poems are darker at the moment, I'm going through a rough patch at the moment and it is being reflected in my poetry as my feelings always are.

I hoped you liked this poem, it's a bit different :)

Comments welcome, keep reading! x

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