At seven they reckon you’re too old
for adoption. And I look on your head
so underwhelming and lost within
that bicycle helmet, behind peers
four years in letters and numbers;
your inside out and backward dress
patterned with pie and snot and think
on all the words that you’ll forget
before the page is even turned
on doors slammed shut and fingers bit,
the kicks of three-year-old strops and spit
now surely that must count for something?
Copyright © Raymond Miller 2017
Ray Miller – Socialist, Aston Villa supporter, faithful husband. Life’s been a disappointment.