Hold

I’m an old hand at this, boy–

You shouldn’t even try.

Go on, hold me up, talk to me, rock me as I sob and retch.

I’ll go on.

I won’t eat, I’ll kiss your friends, I’ll deaden every word you said,

I’ll move back home,

I’ll cut my hair,

I’ll take all you say as read,

I won’t pay rent.

Then return, spent.

And lie in bed,

And ask for bread,

With tea.

I’m an old hand at this, boy.

 

Louise Knight, Scotland