Chris Major
Fester
As
they huddle
smirking in the
playground’ s corner,
their insults
drift
across
the
yard
“Sticks and stones will break my
bones but bloody names…………”
You snap!
But the uniform holds you together,
for it’s later, when removed, that
you fall to pieces.
The thin end of
this wedge grows
thicker over 15 years.
I read of you in the local rag,
three months dead in a flat with flies;
you’d whisky chased pills,
desperate for eternity -
and the time it held to heal
so deep a wound.
Page(s) 168-169
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