Thursday, 18 April 2013

Eiwen changed her image

back in Essex where people

were run over by lorries

and survived

young enough

for a statement wheelchair

crop and steel

to scare the natives

out of, 'what happened to you?'

she'd answer with one word



I dream of living in

a red brick house

that won't rattle in the wind

in a street where people only go

if they live there

no risk of

unexploded bombs under foot


nothing lets in the cold

like a broken bone

your scarf wrapped round my foot

while we waited in casualty

hungry and distracting myself

with my hair needs washing

wanting more than love walks with

seagull shadows on the pavement

holding still our Sunday

inside your blue wool scarf

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