2013-11-12 10.50.20



They say there are signs.

Not with her.


I’m no professor

but neither am I stupid.


I asked her who she’d been seeing.

She sat there murmuring ‘Angel’.


She went north a few days

change’ll do you good.


The solicitors said to forget it.

‘Without proof…’ they smiled.


If anything she started to brighten:

‘They’ll be cousins, same age!’


(I can’t be sure,

but I think I saw him, too.)


We left it too late, of course.

The traffic was solid,


some pop idol on the hire car radio

massacring ‘Hallelujah’.


We stopped at a Little Chef

on a B-road somewhere in the hills.


Crystal midnight it was,

good as daylight.


Then she grew wild-eyed.

Her bawling, a blunt saw,


cut through me.

It wasn’t like in the songs.