Sunday, 1 July 2007

8PM Sunday

She had an hour, at best
She slipped out of the building and crossed the road.
She wanted a little room for thinking
Sometimes there were things to watch
The Inspector was lost in thought as he steered his Sierra through the quiet streets.
The siren odour of a burger van
The universe is forever expanding
There are discarded things behind the garage
There are lessons in the circular
This is the gift my son gave me
When all the others were away at mass
A thin, tough body under the pyjamas
After swimming, that chlorinated feeling
An old, fat paperback, edge with grime
And some were responding, and some were crying
Because she shares a bedroom with the baby
Come kiss me goodnight
Photographs of the chapel.

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