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For Sarah
All she brought to class was a lustful sneer,
A new dance, a micro-skirt to test the flesh
Between knee and hem on the weak, sentimental boys.
I’m supposed to let the past go, but when my wife reports
That Karen walked out, Grace is pregnant, Nicola’s missing,
I remember how she would lose it when school did her head in.
On Friday afternoons, she’d chew gum and fantasise about
Saturday night. Now I see her by Netto’s with her kid.
She flicks fag ash from her sleeve, asks me how I am,
says: You’ve changed. It was a shock at first.
says: My husband drives HGVs, he’s after something better.
Thinks: He used to be good-looking, what happened?
How can I explain? They put my nose out of joint so
My face fell. Leanne, my good-time girl,
I miss your cackle, your foul mouth, your French not even begun.
I miss your scent, your scuffed shoes, your dirty
stories,
I miss the art of knowing when to come on strong, back away, have a laugh,
I miss you tearing off at half past three, shriek dwindling down the
corridor.
Norton Hodges |
