The Bright Eyes of Summer

Si-mon? Dad said, softly

and I knew, between the syllables

a life had gone

In the background

mums’ cries rose then fell

as grief dropped, then carried her off

again.

I listened, shock congealing

staring into the bright eyes of summer

supplanting my unsightly face with

a short business-like shower.

I gently lowered the receiver

like a stunned sparrow

I hit the front door head on, like a drunk

flung it open

sleep-running my way down some hostile lane

towards a Pub,

I forget its name.

The landlord poured me a dark brown drink

sighing, saying England were 223 for 7

I nodded  

thinking how Sam hated driving

and that freaks who gawped at car wrecks

wanted hanging