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.........The Poetry Of.
................... David Ellis
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............. Driven by Guilt
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............. The car is too clean for its age,
............. and she too blond for hers.
............. He pays for three gallons of petrol,
............. she buys a bunch of wilting carnations.
............. They always go for a drive on Sunday--
............. not to anywhere, but just away from
............. the reality of their silent bungalow.
............. He drives faster than usual, for today
............. is special; they have a destination.
............. "Paying our respects," were her words.
............. Soham churchyard is a lodestone that attracts
............. overly clean cars and their owners.
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............. They walk in step, just far enough apart
............. to avoid touching. She places the flowers
............. and dabs decorously at a trickle of tears.
............. The tears surprise her, for deep down
............. she suspects those girls egged him on.
............. Just like our daughter used to,
............. pushing out her breasts, bending
............. over so they could see her knickers.
............. Girls are all the same these days,
............. whatever their age, disgraceful.
............. Furtively, he touches the flowers,
............. like he touches the pages
............. of the magazines that are hidden
............. beneath the tool box in the garage.
............. I shall get rid of them, he determines,
............. but his balls twitch. He knows he wont.
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.............. Near Naked in the Street
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.............. I wonder if she knows, as she strolls,
.............. her hips gyrating, smooth belly bare,
.............. that every man slides those tight jeans
.............. down, and conjures her naked to his bed?
.............. Perhaps she doesn't mind, being fucked
.............. in the mind of every schoolboy or hoary
.............. ancient in her path, perhaps it pleases her.
.............. If that is so, how do we let her know?
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.............. Train to Poznan
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.............. They dragged him from the train.
.............. Such an ordinary man,
.............. Jewish perhaps, but ordinary.
.............. He held on to every projection,
.............. crying out, "I must go to Poznan,
.............. my wife and children are waiting."
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.............. The soldier with a shaven head
.............. smashed a rifle butt into his kidneys.
.............. "I must go to Poznan," then that moan,
.............. theatrical and somehow embarrassing.
.............. They carried him still struggling,
.............. down the three steps into the snow.
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.............. The shot rang out, echoing flat,
.............. in that monochrome world of ice
.............. and uniform dullness. Only blood
.............. on the snow, offered a contrast.
.............. At Poznan, I made sure I did not see
.............. a dark woman with two children.
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.............. We all did, each and every one of us.
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