Dante Furious Poems

Mummy cries when granddad is on TV
The news at six show grainy pictures of him in Spain
In white swimming shorts and a pearly grin
Children’s pictures with blacked out eyes
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It seemed very easy
Years of listening to your nagging
Your mouth fuelled with hot tempered lava
Spitting heated insults
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The weather ended today
My mum watched it on telly
She was trying to see the news over my dad’s belly
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Sad isn’t that your dead
Sad that when they dropped you
From a great height
In that lead lined box
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I’m a crossword made up of hatred lines
Or a scrabble board with triple hate words
I’m a game where someone is punished for being not me
Not the right colour, height, religion or something that we fear
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Don’t try or even buy a chainsaw to remedy aching limbs
The plumes of petrol scoffing smoke should make the user wary
And to cut a troubled limb with its blades that rivets and rolls and slices
To rupture bone and allow dying blood vessels; to bleed
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Hide my little ones
Hide under covers
Shadows elongate from under the bed
A fearful disbelieving gaze
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Johnny didn’t get a toy for Christmas
He begged for plastic effigies
Fuelled by the culpable enemas of advertising
On how to fit in with other boys
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I can’t come in and see you
I can’t come in and hug you
No more bath times
No more ‘sud wars’ or making Mohicans from bubble bath
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