Broken Rubber Sole
1
How many times did I bring you
to the very brink of what you are?
How many times did your crazy eye
turn like laser into mine? How many
times did my "No." make your magma
crack and your lava hands and molten feet
spasm to batter and lash to shatter mine?
I did nothing, but kept standing up - you;
you showed your face...
2
A kick-in under the clock by street baiters
was then, nothing much - no one blamed
or punished - no one collared or touched.
But when we shared it, something changed:
our sad and angry soft sure pride and shame.
We were on the water break oars of Camden Lock
when from the dock, they threw half full cans
of Special Brew to hit our feet and holding hands.
3
Then, P.C. ‘better’ years later, also with you my love,
the shooting from the flats in Archway Place:
It had me standing up - in front of your bullet broken
rubber sole, lost, but this time so enraged,
holding in my hand your torn off boot lace,
shouting like a mountain to the hidden gunman,
a sad coward with no guts, sniping from the safety
of a hunting hut…perhaps still there
as smoky miasma for us to trace, and me still –
calling you to stand, and simply show your face.
