Unto us...

Somewhere and sometime
They commiteed themselves to me
And so, I was!
small but I was.


Tiny in shame,
lusting to live.
I hung in my pulsing cave
Soon they knew of me
My mother, my father.

I had no  say in my being
I lived on trust
And love
Tho¨ I couldn´t think
Each part or me was saying.

A silent  "for me
I will bring you love!"
I was taken
blind, naked and defencelees
By the hand of one


Whose good name
was graven on a brass plate
in Winpole Street
and dropped on the sterile floor
of a foot operated plastic waste bucket




There was no Quuen´s Councel
To take my brief.
The cot I might have warmed
Stood in Harrow´s shop window
When my passing was told


My father smiled
No grif fill my empty space.
My death was celebrated
With two tickets to see Danny y la Rue
Who was pretending to be a woman


Like, my mother was






Spike Milligan