I lift my
the cloth of my
shirt
my T-shirt
my drenched T-shirt
*
three
Friday
and she
triangulates
the kitchen
with
busy-ness
waiting
for the homecoming of us
on
the four o’clock bus
pondering
tea
and so
she
anticipating
hunger
reaches
into the centre
cupboard
for the
large gripstand bowl
and
fetches
fat and
eggs
from
the Lec
in the
scullery
stands
them next
to the
range to warm
washes
her hands at the kitchen sink
by the
window
glancing
up the garden
to the
point she knows
in an
hour we will become
visible
to see beneath my
under my right ribs
a gaping hole in
wrenched in
the flesh of me
where
*
they
therefore
they
because
it was
the preparation
day
that the
bodies
should
not remain
upon the
cross
on the Sabbath
day
besought
him that
their
legs might be broken
and that they
might be
taken
away
so came
the soldiers
to brake
the legs of the first
and of
the other
which was
crucified with him
but when
they came to Jesus
and saw
that he was dead
already
they
brake not his legs
but one
of the soldiers
with a
lance
pierced
his side
and
forthwith
came
there out
blood
and water
where the guts
the guts have been
and the heart
the heart has been
they have been
damaged
*
four
ounces
four
each of
caster sugar
and soft
unsalted butter
creamed
together
with an
ancient wooden spoon
then
eggs, two,
free
range
beaten
and added
by drop
by drop
with a
teaspoonful of essence -
Madagascan
Vanilla -
followed
by flour
another
four ounces
self-raising,
sifted and weighed
folded
into the
glossy mixture
and then
the batter
dolloped
by spoon
by soft
spoonful
on top of
a finger of scarlet jam
in the
bases
of paper
cases
stood
in the
tarnished indents
of a
well-used muffin tray
then
posted
into the
oven
preheated
to
three
hundred and seventy five degrees
Fahrenheit
until
domes of golden cake
glisten
proudly above tulips of paper
ready to
be
lifted
gingerly
and lined
up uniformly
on the
waiting
mesh
cooling-rack
through loss
through injury
injuries
and through loss
*
it was
the consultant haematologist
who
in maybe
some clumsy attempt to
comfort
her
had
pointed out
that as
she
had older
children they
would after
her death be
able to attend
to
the
infant
with whom
she
was now
pregnant
and the triangular
the triangular blade
the wound made by
the triangular
bayonet blade
is such
that the sides
the sides of the cut flesh
cannot be
drawn
together
to staunch
the flow
*
six
o’clock
six
and at
tea
there are
ham sandwiches
and
soft-boiled eggs we pass over
before we
can peel
the papers
from the
waiting fairy cakes
to reveal
the terrifying
broken
heart of jam
that has
burst into the sponge
to leave
a chasm of syrupy sweetness
blood red
and oozing
while she
pours tea
while she
still can
from the
aluminium teapot
its dull
tannin-stained
surfaces
scoured
to a
shine
in the
last few moments
transfigured
before we
arrived
home
and the
wound
the wound thus fails to
it bleeds
it still bleeds
and thus
fails to
it fails to
heal
to heal
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