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There’s a hole in the ceiling.

It’s been there since he left.

I took no notice for a while.

It’s a leak in the shower,

which needs repair.

The hole is very small,

but the water is eating away at it.

If I leave it the ceiling will fall.

But maybe if I get some silicone

we’ll be fixed before then.






You’re crying here,

but somewhere someone is laughing

and one day

that will be you.

So, stick it on the fridge

and think of Pandora.





By the kitchen door you kissed me.

Surprised, I reached out to you.

You kissed the top of my head.

Rejected, yet grateful,

I didn’t know then.


And yet I still remember that kiss;

it felt important,

it kept me happy.


Intermittent affection.

I’m still waiting.



There are many ways of killing yourself.

Eating yourself to death

and drinking yourself to death

are two of my favourites.





A letter was sent to the parents

because of me.

I was the one,

there’s always one

and it was me.


“How does the sperm get into the egg, miss?

Do you have to have an operation?”


The rep from the nice-girls-group

comforted me later,

in private -

they didn’t know either.


Of course the parents refused,

but it didn’t matter,

thanks to the naughty-girls-group

I knew it all by lunch time.



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The Tunnel -The End of the Tunnel - The Light


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They live underground for seven years

before coming out to mate

and sing – I’d sing too!

Don’t they know they’re going to die

in four to six weeks?


You can’t see them, but

when you’re young

you can hear the males -

their high pitched shrilling is inaudible

to most over forties.


There’s a phone app now to hunt them.

People of a certain age

are roaming around

searching for something they can’t see

and will never find.