the last train home

the last train home

the past is a departing train

with hands that slip apart

and waving grows tiny

until the tunnel swallows 

the red tail light

and we turn away  

in the 1950s

 in the 1950s

uncle ben had agoraphobia

uncle teddy double pneumonia

grandpa died without a voice

dr rees said his voice box had turned over 

when auntie hannh was up the sisterhood 

grandpa was my father’s father

he had a hairy vest and a muffler

saw aunty bessie yesterday

aunty ethel smoked woodbines incessantly 

uncles george and leslie were bachelors

all their possibilities were yesterdays

ronnie and davy were in the navy

danny in the merchant navy

big noises in the war my mum said 

gunners both 

but the laugh had been shot down

yes said aunty may yesterday

it seemed like nannas and grandpas

we’re alive and willing to give me a shilling

for some comics in the sweet shop

aunty dylis was as highly strung as a trellis 

uncles walty and willy were very silly

drinkers both and quick with an oath

alcoholics fall over 

ivor had been a commando in the war 

dad said

he would walk through a brick wall 

they all came home to me in 1953

but they are dead now

i tell me nieces and nephews 

here in the 2020s

adage in a bandage

adage in a bandage

her badge said -

‘beneath these clothes i am completely naked’

dare i take her badge

the truth seems so naked

but so is a lie

but   too late

she has turned away

‘too late now’

my badge said

what could have followed

didn’t take off

piquant had been pinned again 

she sent a selfie

she sent a selfie

the night was blue

the windows red

i am ready 

she said

overture you 

a series of haiku

 if you still cannot see

      that he is invisible

then he has arrived

can the blind see 

darkness

if there is no light

can we see

the stone’s inside

if there is no hammer

when a thought

departs

who will know

see this finger

pointing 

follow it

nellie the effluent

nellie the effluent

look

we believe he is

  that’s all that matters 

history will not be kind to him

the knives are being sharpened 

that will home the quills of think 

eternity

is a long time to be deemed

  guilty

today is but the reckoning card

over which the pendulum swings 

the probate of his epitaph

has been redacted 

by the gob of the mob

his mausoleum is stone cold

• good  good

resounds as just enough

for the travails of his failure

sooner rather than later 

it will become

     ultimately  

had to didn’t i?

 had to   didn’t i? 

i remember to this day

giving my apple stump

to this lad 

who followed me 

around the playground 

shoes with holes

gentian violet on his urticaria 

he has nibbled away at my thoughts 

ever since

why did i make him wait 

well 

you see

i had to finish my apple

didn’t i?

well i did

didn’t i?