BLEEDING FROM A HEARTA Poem by Terry CollettA BOY AND GIRL IN 1950S LONDON.![]() Fay can see Baruch from the window of the living room down on the area of grass below he is alone sitting on one of the bomb shelters left over from the war she peers down at him taking in the cowboy hat the silver looking 6 shooter toy gun he seems to be cleaning she wishes she was there with him but her father says she is to stay in and learn about the saints and said he will quiz her later when he gets home from work about them to see what she has learnt the book is on the chair unopened a bookmark of St Benedict lies on top her mother is in the kitchen preparing soup she knows her mother would turn a blind eye if she wanted to go out but they both know that her father would punish her if he caught her out especially with Baruch the Jew Boy as her father calls him the killer of Our Lord he often says although Baruch denies being involved in any way she hopes Baruch will look up at her window and see her he has put his gun in the holster hanging from the belt of his jeans and holds a rifle bought for him for his birthday he aims at the sky and twirls around pretending to shoot pigeons flying over head she watches him as he aims at the coal wharf where the coal carts are being loaded with coal from chutes above her father doesn't like Baruch even though Baruch always smiles and says shalom to him if he passing her father on the stairs of the flats Baruch says her father is a schmuck but she doesn't know what that means but if Baruch said it it must be a nice term she thinks wiping away the steamed up glass where she has breathed on it she blows him a kiss from the palm of her thin hand he doesn't know but he'll get it any how she knows he aims at the steam train passing over the bridge by the Duke of Wellington pub she smiles as he does the kickback from his rifle the train passes unharmed the driver unaware he has been fired upon by a cowboy from the grass she eyes him determinedly wants him to look up at her window he lifts the rifle to the sky again and fires then he pauses lowers his rifle and stares at her window she waves he looks she waves frantically he looks away she bites a lip he stares up at her window and beckons her down with a wave of his hand she waves crossing her hands as if to say can't come he gazes and then waves and blows a kiss from his hand upwards then he climbs down from the bomb shelter and disappears the grass is empty he has gone the book of saints lies on the chair unopened she goes from the window and picks it up and opens and begins to read sensing a good portion of her 11 year old girl's heart bleeds. © 2013 Terry Collett |
Stats
99 Views
Added on December 10, 2013 Last Updated on December 10, 2013 AuthorTerry CollettUnited KingdomAboutTerry Collett has been writing since 1971 and published on and off since 1972. He has written poems, plays, and short stories. He is married with eight children and eight grandchildren. on January 27t.. more.. |


Flag Writing