A/: Silverfish

Silverfish

I remember you sewing only once
A pink and white PE bag
For my first day at school
I was so proud of it
With its bright white dots
That I hung it on my coat peg
Over the top of my coat
So everyone would see it.

I remember a pink and white
Streaky clean skinned pig
Hung proudly on a meat hook
In the window of the butchers shop
Heaved from the lorry on the shoulders
Of strong white coated men
Wearing dirty boots and hairnets
Half cigarettes tucked behind fat fleshy ears.

I remember waiting outside the funny farm
For you to finish your long day shift
The car doors locked tight and double-checked
I shrunk back curled small into the seat, invisible,
Felt tip pen smudged hands clutching
A mother's day card all childishly abstract
A vase of flowers carefully glued made of
Screwed up balls of pink and white tissue paper.

I remember walking home with you
Up the steep hill past the abattoir
I could almost smell the fear
And hear the laughing of my uncles and cousins
At the end of the shift they'd pass us waving
As we paddled in the cool sparkling green stream
Catching hundreds of tiny silver fish in a jam jar
They'd go home, shave and wash the blood off

The scent of fear stuck to them though
Knotted in their hair, woven between thick fingers
Then onto the social club faces spotted
With bits of pink and white tissue paper.