sweet sixteen

Talking of tremors

she has a green

bathtub. One day

I filled it. One day

I put old rose petals

in it ,she said she

didn’t mind. Even

when they begun to

rot. She used to

lie in it and watch

me brush my teeth

and when I spat

she looked a

little harder said

why do you get

such a long string.

I’ve had a lot of

mucus ever since

I was sixteen.

She sung me sweet

sixteen in her

green bathtub. I

couldn’t bare to

join her. She

looked at me in

the mirror. My

insides curled open

like flowers. How

they tremble in the

sun. In the rain.

but then she gets

up. Says. Get

these petals off

of me. I have a job.

I have to go.

So I pick them off

gingerly as she

brushes her teeth.

I drain the bath.

Clean it too. Lay

inside ,clothed.

sweet sixteen

you in the window

it is not fair she

said. I flick through

the moments and it

dominates the frame

here. I chose the

angle which would

communicate the

feeling. Affrontement.

Solid face of white

stone ,little windows

(all cut in so tidy, so

beside). I liked it. Liked

the way  I would get

lost inside. I know. It

isn’t fair , I want

to see you too. I’ll

watch the little windows

cut. I’ll have to go alone.


I send you the picture.

tell you I took it

that Thursday.

when in fact,

it’s dated week

and six days

prior. Maybe

you will notice

maybe not.


It’s not fair she

said. I   know.

you in the window