Enid And The Row 1957 Poem by Terry Collett

Your mother
says goodbye to you
her eyes are red
she's been crying.

She and father
had rowed
during
the late evening
and night.

You climb down
the concrete stairs
of the flats.

The morning
is dull
a grey sky
greets you.

Benny waits
for you
at the bottom.

He looks at you
how's things?
he says.

You try smiling
but he knows
you're not happy.

They rowed again
yesterday
and last night
you tell him.

He nods
but says nothing.

You walk on
through the Square
and down the slope.

What they row about?
he asks.

Money I think
you say.

You cross
Rockingham Street
and go up
Meadow Row.

He talks about
other things
trying to take
your mind off
the rowing
and home life.

You cross
the bomb site
listening to him
aware of his
hazel eyes
and quiff
of brown hair.

You want to say
how unhappy
you are
how you didn't
sleep too well.

But you walk
beside him
let him do
the talking.

You
remember how
you were fearful
your father would
enter your room
while they rowed
and hit you one
as the row
spilt over
in the passageway.

But he didn't
that time
they moved into
their room
and closed the door
and rowed the more.