They closed the door

They closed the door

Whispered together

Foreheads touching

The sound barely travelling

Between them

Where do the smiles

Come from

When the words

Are borrowed

From a bible story

Packing a bag

With school clothes

Sleeping with Grandma

Who smells of camphor

And carbolic soap

Brown toast for breakfast

With Albran

It tastes of cardboard

A movement before

Leaving

Keeping regular is an essential

Part of the school day

With special prayers

At assembly

For the colliery

The village depends on

Nobody mentions

The odd socks

Missing shirt button

Or tide mark

On the back of my neck

Grandma has milk

In her eyes

Nobody asks

About Mum and Dad

Sending me to school

Whilst they look after Nana

With Grandad

In his house

At the Waterworks

With the steam pump

Camshafts and big wheels

The man who cuts hair

For a shilling

On a Sunday morning

Grandad smokes Mahogany Flake

From a Meerschaum

In the tin

It has an aroma

As sweet as fruit cake

When it’s lit

He blows blue rings

Perfectly formed

His clothes smell of ash trays

And sulphur

He is a lay preacher

Little children are seen but not heard

As is God’s will

He says that I have the Devil in me

I think it is in him

Why do they stay there

And leave me here

Nobody mentions

The dying

Until after it happens

Why the pretence?

Closing the door

Didn’t shut out pain

But it did shut

Me in…

Out.