Keep Out Of The Reach Of Children Poem by Matthew Coombe

She sat on my knee. The shiny red bag slung
over a shoulder means you’re shopping for the day,
sunglasses riding high like a boat on the waterfall’s edge.

She sat on my knee as I explained to her our trip
to the doctor. “Will he use this? ” She asked
lifting her tweezers from her nurse’s bag.

She sat on my knee as I pointed to the toy syringe.
I told her how it would squirt medicine into her skin
and it was nothing to worry about.

Even at three, she could clearly see
the colour of every card in my hand.
She had read between my lines and felt
the breeze of my unease on her face.

She sat on my knee as the nurse took a more direct route.
“You’re having an injection today so you don’t get poorly
at big school. It might make you go Ouch! ”

She sat on my knee, me hugging her tightly.
A second nurse entered and together both arms
took a singled silver barrelled hit.

She sat on my knee, the orchestra suddenly silenced
the needle snatched from the record,
tears soaking in to my shirt.

She sat on my knee when chunks of chocolate
were pushed in to her clammy palm,
thirty pieces of silver was all I could think of.

She sat on my knee in the coffee shop
and drank her milkshake – mine too.
Two frothy yellow rockets for one wide smile.

But it did not cool the stinging burn in my arms.


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