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Poetry Library Southbank Centre - The Poetry Library housing the Arts Council Collection at Southbank Centre

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June Hall

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Mezzanine

Hello, downstairs people! he bellows,
Turn off my light! The order drops
through the hollow space between.

He sleeps in the half-timbered mezzanine,
an airless lair which holds the heat of day and
fevered tantrums of his twelve-year growing.

A red No entry! sign, part unpinned,
glares from his door. He yells unaware,
Between two chairs, the French would say

but when the music stops is it a game
for a little fellow, wet face ready for prayers,
in a rumpled nest, milk teeth under the pillow,

or Russian roulette with grown up weapons
where you grapple and dare, soft soap and swear
and people really get hurt?

No kissing! their stringy man-child roars
so they learn downstairs to unkiss him,
twist into awkward hugs, hold in their love.

But at night he peeps through the wooden rails
like a toddler of the play-pen years, checks
they haven’t gone away, his ground-floor people.

Page(s) 28

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