The Attendant Lord
Super Mum, King Dad, trudge
miles of coast path underfoot.
Enjoy, says the rucksack’s swing.
The filial appendage,
the attendant lord, sixteen,
trails in their wake.
(A routed part of him
is back in the arcade,
the caff, with Jess’n’Em.)
He mounts a psychic onslaught
on hearties coming through,
guns them down cliff-face scree.
Two older girls, of twenty-four,
swing breasts and baggage past.
A mind’s brief brilliant blossom.
Then, lingering, for just a while,
a melancholy throb. (O Jess’n’Em!)
He sinks then to the long diurnal trek.
Copyright © Robert Nisbet 2015
Robert Nisbet was for some years an associate lecturer in creative writing at Trinity College, Carmarthen. His poems appear in magazines like The Frogmore Papers, The Interpreter’s House, Dream Catcher, The Journal, Prole and Scintilla.