Jimmy stood,
in front of all his peers
and making them strain to hear
whispered
“I’m coming home.”
Jimmy stood,
in front of his peers
cleared his throat with purpose, and
proclaimed
“I
am perished.
Broken.
I have been sapped, slit
like the rubber tree
and all that is precious
drained into one bucket of blood.”
So nose to tail I took a taxi
up the Ecclesall Road
bathing in that stench,
we all know, smoke, revellers, perfume, puke
and air fresheners the shape of turtles.
It lacked room in the back
so I sat with my knees around my ears
and remembered fingering you one drunken night
all top hat and long black split skirt.
Great days.
Getting off on being watched.
Arriving at the door
his hands shivered as he turned the key
but once unlocked, so unlocked
Jimmy summoned his courage and burst through.
I’m home he announced, and I’m fucking gorgeous.
His grandmother disapproved, there is no need my boy
for such language and passed him a pot of tea.
His peers stopped him in hallways and
in clear and well spoken voices
some asked, some dismissed,
“So Jimmy, is this art?”
In reply he whispered “Are you drinking from the bucket?”
Jimmy enjoyed the pomposity.
“Because if you are, then this most certainly is.”