Like those elders who ponder the social acceptability of stretch synthetics and red lipstick, I myself consider the merits or lack thereof, of twinsets, lavender perfume and best china. Somehow believing they may propel me thirty years to an unspent paradigm of taking time, tea and secaturs to the roses.

Point 4 Miscarriage Point 4 missed period Point 4 step child Point 4 Never conceived a third Point 4 Tried,tried and tried and failed Point 4 Twin foetus never reached term Point 4 Removed by social services Point 4 Never cared for anyway Point 4 Abortion Point 4 Point 4 Or … My children distrubuted In five knotted hankerchiefs amongst the careless ungrateful And greedy.

You and I, Our small thread lives Throw yarns The colour of sun and petroleum, They trace indefinite routes Within this Mandalic mutation. Persisting to realise, They will pull us from our feet and hurl us Straight Into the eye of the needle.

Cast before the conductor They wait. Hand in hand We the cello section Slip quietly to the bar.

You and I, Our small thread lives Throw yarns The colour of sun and petroleum They trace indefinite routes Within this Mandalic mutation. Persisting to realise They will pull us from our feet and hurl us Straight Into the eye of the needle.

On a road That cuts through wasteland Somewhere between Dalston and Leyton A 1984 pick-up truck Has dropped it’s load And stopped Somewhere else A red haired girl Who knows the world differently Plays alone in an Empty Park Two men wearing turbans Have climbed out of the truck They frantically Gather up Onions The onions On impact with concrete Exploded From orange net sacks Landed Split, bruised, paper skin tattered They Burn the air Between pavements In a blue vest and shorts The red haire...

It looks nice in here Without those bits of unnecessary apology Littering up the floor With our habits stacked In tidy piles Easily accessible For as and when we need them Or to alphabetacise sometime later

On a road That cuts through wasteland Somewhere between Dalson and Leyton A 1984 pick-up truck Has stopped Somewhere else A red haired girl Who knows the world differently Plays alone in an Empty Park Two men wearing turbans Have climbed out of the truck They frantically Gather up onions The onions On impact with concrete Exploded from orange net sacks and now roll about Pavement to Pavement In a blue vest and shorts The red haired girl Stands barefoot Ankle deep In water And now on impact wi...

On a road That cuts through wasteland Somewhere between Dalson and Leyton A 1984 pick-up truck Has stopped Somewhere else A red haired girl Who knows the world differently Plays alone in an Empty Park Two men wearing turbans Have climbed out of the truck They frantically Gather up onions The onions On impact with concrete Exploded from orange net sacks and now roll about Pavement to Pavement In a blue vest and shorts The red haired girl Stands barefoot Ankle deep In water And now on impact wi...

On a road That cuts through wasteland Somewhere between Dalson and Leyton A 1984 pick-up truck Has stopped Somewhere else A red haired girl Who knows the world differently? Plays alone in an Empty Park Two men wearing turbans Have climbed out of the truck They frantically Gather up onions The onions On impact with concrete Exploded from orange net sacks and now roll about Pavement to Pavement In a blue vest and shorts The red haired girl Stands barefoot Ankle deep In water And now on impact w...