• Vol. 06
  • Chapter 12


Here it comes, she thinks, not long now
He’s gathering his intention
Hesitant like a cloud inside him
And even though he tries to sound cheerful
It’s only ever a front.

“I could murder a pint!”
This constant desperation that holds
Such quiet power over him
“You go on, I’ll meet you later,” she says
“There’s much more I want to see here.”

Her gaze wanders over ankles strapped into shoes
Restraining hands clasped under a thigh
Flesh holding back flesh
While he drifts off
She stays exactly where she belongs.

He’s like a positron, she decides
There and not there, both
One thing and the other
A tiny annihilating charge
Pretending to be attractive.

Nothing like my father, she reflects
You knew where you stood with him
Do or don’t do — no half measures
What would you have made of all this, Dad?
I can’t see where it’s going, myself.