God, do you have a special box
for prayers of children who ask
for their parents to die?
Who dream of a place with a
Volvo crunching up the drive
that leads to a garden with a swing,
overlooked by a terracotta kitted
kitchen where a nice
lady with apricot hair sings boy band tunes
and enforces homework?
As yet she has no eye
colour, or shape, just shadows of
something beyond this
dark secret.
They pray,
"God take them away
