Ollie
his colours have drifted away
swirled away from his still body
like a psychedelic mist
leaving only a shadow.
I stood for an age
in the terraced front room
by the open front door
listening to the frolics
in the street
and the ping-ponging of voices
over my head.
Instructions
and a shopping list
boring
irrelevant details
to this child
absorbed only in mannerism
and interaction
until
but don’t buy him a ladder.
She was oblivious
too infatuated with her magnificence
eyes half closed
smiling
small shakes of the head
tilting
side to side
saying she’s experienced
and how wonderful she’ll be.
I became alarmed
when she picked it up
but my distress was doused
with derision
and its snide chorus
which
up until that point
was goofing about the shop
or rather it was crushed
like a car in a wrecking yard
or sucked down
into the ceaseless knot
at the pit of my stomach
to endlessly seep out
as nerves and restraint.
Awakened by her scream
we materialised at the scene
Ollie
stiff on his back
his frail bird leg twisted
like a pipe-cleaner
around the bottom of the ladder.