All night Tippi and I lie with our arms
wrapped around each other
like rope.
I bury my face in her neck
and she wakes every now and then
to kiss the top of my head

I have been here once before – It was a long time ago, I don't remember when.
But as my father handed me the axe-head
Images exploded in my brain.

I’ve seen those tough as oaks

weep like willows

even the hardest thugs can have tear stained pillows

most can’t see the forest for the trees

He was seven and I was six, my Brendon Gallacher.
He was Irish and I was Scottish, my Brendon Gallacher.
His father was in prison; he was a cat burglar.

Give me a smile
with lips stretched wide as a rubber band
and in between a set of straight white teeth
dazzling like a mirror ball.

Your mother made me

write this

just in case, she said,

which kinda freaked me out,

so I said to her,

Da Man is fine, babe.

Nell drives and we don’t speak.

Every limb is numb

or aching.

My mind is racing

Kicking the pebbles along Eastbourne beach

as the orange-pink of sunset

plays with the ebbing tide,

my mother asks…

Tippi can't stand clowns.
Dragon is terrified of cockroaches
and Mom of mice.
Dad pretends to be fearless,
though I've seen him flinch when the mail arrives
seen him hide

I have your smile

when I look in the mirror I see you

I have your laugh

So when I chuckle I hear you

I have your humour

when I’m sharing jokes I owe it to you