Out Of Bounds 1955 Poem by Terry Collett

Out Of Bounds 1955



I was on a bomb site
off Meadow Row
with Helen
searching for small stones
for my catapult

she had her doll
Battered Betty
in one hand
and was looking at the ground
through her thick lens glasses

how small do
they have to be?
she said

about this size
I said
showing her
with my thumb and finger

we searched amongst the bricks
and rubble and bits
of wood and weeds

is this small enough?
she said
picking up a stone
and putting it
in the palm
of her small hand

I went to her
and gazed at it
and picked it up
and said
yes that's about right
and put it in a small pouch
made from an old handkerchief
tied together
and tied to the belt
around my blue jeans

how many stones
do you need?
she said
because Betty
is getting hungry
and I will have to
feed her soon
with the bottle
in my dress pocket

o about a handful
I said
just a few more

ok
she said
and we looked on
Betty hanging
from Helen's hand
by her tiny hand

just then a copper
walked across the bomb site
from the New Kent Road
trudging at his own pace
towards us

Helen saw him first
and stood up
and clutched Betty
close towards her chest
her eyes large
and scared looking

I stood up and put
my hands in the pockets
of my blue jeans

you ought not to be
on bomb sites
he said
they're dangerous places

Helen opened her mouth
to speak
but nothing came
but air

we're collecting stones
for my catapult
I said

he stood upright
with his hands on his hips
staring at us both

I don't care
if you're collecting gems
for Her Majesty the Queen
I want you off now
and to go home
he said
his voice firm and baritone

only I need ammunition
I said
and this is the best
place for them

off and go home
he said peering at me
his eyes dark and enlarging

Helen was nigh
wetting herself

so I shrugged and said
ok but we'll be back
once you've gone

Helen stared at me
as if I'd passed wind

GO NOW
he bellowed

pigeons flew up and off
from the bomb site
at the sound

we walked off
the bomb site together

she looking ahead
eyes tearful

I gazing back
like I'd seen this cowboy do
in that Western film
before a gunfight
I'd seen with my old man
the previous night.

Friday, February 5, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: childhood
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