BENT OVER GEOGRAPHY

 

When off school sick

dad would bring me toast

in bed before he went to work

then leave me crumbed up

in a world of dreams,

ear stuck to a transistor

as the day went on its way

beyond closed curtains

in the blind distance

of car horns and shouting

over garden fences.

I'd suck mints if boredom

and loneliness crept in

or season permitting,

pop downstairs barefoot

to the catch the horse racing

with an inner happiness

that pals were pushing

pens, bent over geography

or maths just aching

for the bell's release.

 

Published in Atrium 2018.