Daithidh MacEochaidh
2 Sugars but no Milk
She rapped, she raged, she belted
on ma door; wouldn’t mind
but it was open. She stood five foot
five in bedroom slippers, naked but
for her hair in Andy Cap curlers — a most
inauspicious sign. She said have you
been using ma toothbrush? I shook
ma head. Considering she was an
imperfect stranger, I thought that
there was a good chance that
I was in the clear. She said don’t
invite me in then. I didn’t.
At a quarter past five, she was back,
with her husband, slippers, shitty
jocks and a purple string vest. Go on,
Harry, sort the twat she said. The man
warned me that he was Salvation Army trained.
I nutted him in the false teeth. She said
are you going to invite me in or not.
Booting her fallen husband out of the way
I managed to close the door on this for at least
two days. She was back, dressed this time
with something from the HOPE charity shop.
She said she was sorry and all that,
her husband was sorry and all that,
and it wouldn’t happen again but that
I shouldn’t mess with her toothbrush
and that’s a fact,
leaving me gob-smacked
with minty breath.
on ma door; wouldn’t mind
but it was open. She stood five foot
five in bedroom slippers, naked but
for her hair in Andy Cap curlers — a most
inauspicious sign. She said have you
been using ma toothbrush? I shook
ma head. Considering she was an
imperfect stranger, I thought that
there was a good chance that
I was in the clear. She said don’t
invite me in then. I didn’t.
At a quarter past five, she was back,
with her husband, slippers, shitty
jocks and a purple string vest. Go on,
Harry, sort the twat she said. The man
warned me that he was Salvation Army trained.
I nutted him in the false teeth. She said
are you going to invite me in or not.
Booting her fallen husband out of the way
I managed to close the door on this for at least
two days. She was back, dressed this time
with something from the HOPE charity shop.
She said she was sorry and all that,
her husband was sorry and all that,
and it wouldn’t happen again but that
I shouldn’t mess with her toothbrush
and that’s a fact,
leaving me gob-smacked
with minty breath.
Page(s) 12
magazine list
- Features
- zines
- 10th Muse
- 14
- Acumen
- Agenda
- Ambit
- Angel Exhaust
- ARTEMISpoetry
- Atlas
- Blithe Spirit
- Borderlines
- Brando's hat
- Brittle Star
- Candelabrum
- Cannon's Mouth, The
- Chroma
- Coffee House, The
- Dream Catcher
- Equinox
- Erbacce
- Fabric
- Fire
- Floating Bear, The
- French Literary Review, The
- Frogmore Papers, The
- Global Tapestry
- Grosseteste Review
- Homeless Diamonds
- Interpreter's House, The
- Iota
- Journal, The
- Lamport Court
- London Magazine, The
- Magma
- Matchbox
- Matter
- Modern Poetry in Translation
- Monkey Kettle
- Moodswing
- Neon Highway
- New Welsh Review
- North, The
- Oasis
- Obsessed with pipework
- Orbis
- Oxford Poetry
- Painted, spoken
- Paper, The
- Pen Pusher Magazine
- Poetry Cornwall
- Poetry London
- Poetry London (1951)
- Poetry Nation
- Poetry Review, The
- Poetry Salzburg Review
- Poetry Scotland
- Poetry Wales
- Private Tutor
- Purple Patch
- Quarto
- Rain Dog
- Reach Poetry
- Review, The
- Rialto, The
- Second Aeon
- Seventh Quarry, The
- Shearsman
- Smiths Knoll
- Smoke
- South
- Staple
- Strange Faeces
- Tabla Book of New Verse, The
- Thumbscrew
- Tolling Elves
- Ugly Tree, The
- Weyfarers
- Wolf, The
- Yellow Crane, The