Steven Taylor
: Peter Mandelson’s Version
History
is what my family thinks of me
The way that my father sits
Between his knife and fork
How my mother serves him
The words my brother speaks
To delight us. How he toddles
And then falls inwardly
upon himself
Reaching helplessly. Saturdays
And my sister spraying her parts
With a scent from Leeds market
That must sting like Billy Heck
Before she goes out. An uncle
Arriving at the back door
With a story. Armoured vehicles
Arranged around our language
As though we were foreigners
Full of refugees. At teatime
Mum says, Truth -
Truth remains an act of faith
Today potatoes were 10p
Tomorrow no more than 12
She might neglect my father soon
Because of her greater love for me
Page(s) 104-105
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