never did that for me

I couldn’t:

do the dishes

load the washing machine

hoover the carpets

mop the floors

I could

leave the tub in a mess

drop my clothes on the floor

screw up a tidy kitchen

& on

the list gets tedious

& now

when she’s talking

to my new beau

about the stuff I do

around the house

all she can say is

he never did that for me

not a thought

for how that was


the reasons why


I took my white handled athame

down to the beach start of the day

& as the sun caught tip of the waves

I threw it & the last I had of you in

I’d returned the photos records

books clothes intimates of will

but for my last precious part of you

tied to my athame flung far as I could

& as I saw it arc then sink into the sea

I chanted a spell cutting the cord

that bound you to me me to you

the ocean took all of that in away

our bond was cut now not to be again

I sat on a sun burnt bench for a while

watching waiting whether for hope or fail

in case the tide brought us back again

& then for a brief moment bare waving arms

of dead sailors accepting my gift with wishes

it was then I knew the hex had taken hold

walked away with words echoing my head

I’m going to miss that pearl white handle

my faithful athame in my hand my heart

over & over now never helping spells

incantations rituals until I will get old


there were few times

the man offered me advice

on life love other things

we were so opposed

he couldn’t talk clear

& I could not hear

the first time

he was nervous

of friends I had

& the second

was about lovers

telling me to be careful

make sure I had the right one

while I stared hard at him

the first of his ran away

& the second

could not do care

look after him at all

care for him me be kind

& the day he died

gave away his clothes

bundled for the charity

scree scree scree scree

the music of pickers

heard in the thrift stores

scree scree scree

scratching of thin metal hangers

on fat chrome rails

pulling the clothes on & to

searching for labels

anything high end



that can be sold on through

make a few bucks

pay the habit

pay the man

pay the bills

churned out to vintage stores

in a bundle blanket

for them to sell on

to folks who’d never

grace the thrift

& the losers here

are you & me

with high end taste

& low money

da club

you know where it is

who goes

gets included

& know for sure

who gets through the door

& more importantly

that you won’t

not a question

of clothes manners money


are you one of them?

went to the right schools

colleges university

on the back of daddy’s

foundation family funds

in a line going back in history

the in crowd

made clear

because you

are not there

wake up

what the eyes don’t see

the signs were all there

the nights

extra care on the lipstick

picking clothes to wear

overtime at work

weekends with his friends

fishing trips with no fish

all the money gone

lift in the steps

brighter being

the eyes

choose to avoid

but we all knew

could see these changes

hoping they would wake up

before we had to tell them

big changes were coming

dress sense

how I dress has nothing to do with you

grey socks

black drawers (as all the best outlaws do)

black jeans

t shirt

maybe an overshirt

weather permitting

& none of that is about you

is just me being comfortable

the dress code

for I don’t care for fashion

your mad ideas on taste

it is function over form

if you like

& if you like that’s good too

& if you don’t

I don’t care much about

how you dress either…