The Specials

It’s written on your face and whilst I can still read you let me take

it for you, take it out and leave it on the step. Here we will be home.

We will open the windows and scream it for the neighbours to keep

or- the rooks!

Aye, let them caw it out.

It’s staining your boots, son, and whilst I still can, let me scrub them

clean, soak it up, screw it up, rip it up, leave it out on the front step for

the foxes. We will be home here.

We will dance to The Specials in our sock feet, in the half light,

leave our dirty boots fallen by the back door. It’s written on your face

and whilst I can still read it. Let me whisper our stories so they will

build to myths and legends

for you to emerge from -whole, strong, known. And let’s curse

through the letterbox before sticking it shut with masking tape and

let’s grow strong son, dancing to

The Specials- in sock feet.In our own half light.