So small I barely knew my street
I tensed at TV tigers
The circus came – I crumbled
I pleaded we go home
Soon I feared the Watchman
Be good, be good, be good!
Be good for the Watcher can see!
But what is such goodness?
School came with its sticks and stones
I felt the cold, the sly remark . . .
But not all men were strangers
My tigers prowled subdued
In our eternal days
I grew . . .
Realised 11’s after 10
11 turns to 12 . . .
I’d shuffle – and what then?
Death I once encountered, yeah
A girl, a chase, rejection!
A hand of sand, my lean-ons
As tigers sluiced, unchained
But hope hung round the tomb
Stitching skin to sinew . . .
And out of darkness, breath
Though I claim no resurrection
I’m just another Jonah
Spewed up on the shore
Knowing all is death unless
I learn to lie with tigers