Gaia – Grubby Finger Marks And Bolognese Spots.
“If I had just got that train, would he still be here?”
I asked the wall.
Wall was silent,
But calm in the kitchen,
Which was greatly needed by all of the household.
Cooking endeavours always found favour
In Pollock splatterings
Along the teal coloured tiles.
The soft mint green wall,
Freshly painted only a week ago,
Had already invited grubby finger marks and bolognese spots.
Grubby finger marks and bolognese spots
Always caught his school boy shirt.
Tea-towels would be stuffed down his collar,
But it would still be inevitable
That stains would surface;
A pointless exercise,
But nonetheless a tradition
And always met with:
“Mum gerr off!”
And my reply in a thousand unwanted kisses on his forehead.
A thousand unwanted kisses on his forehead
And a thousand more hugs.
How I would give ten thousand more
And never let go.
How I would shape him now,
Like a folded piece of paper sealed into an envelope
And stuff him into my breast pocket;
My left hand clasping at my chest.
My left hand clasping at my chest,
My heart pounding
As hard as boxer fists.
Air tighter now.
A person should be able to just breathe.
The teal coloured tiles now shattered into a million tiny pieces.
No more grubby finger marks and bolognese spots.