Keep It Simple Decapitation

I am
 as I hold
 my blade to your gizzard
 simplified
 as to the reason being
 my belief
 that my God provides
 my nafah this Occam’s Razor

 you are
 as I hold
 this blade to your gizzard
 complicated
 as to the reason being
 your belief
 your God provides
 your ruach
 and must be removed

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mum is a child

passed from old age
through adolescence
to quiet child

cuts squares out of new
curtains with scissors

empties food cupboards
wraps it all
in newspaper
puts it in
her neighbour’s bin

stuffs paper
into electric plug-holes

runs taps
floods her house

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shift change

new hours
 of grind

 not yet comfy

 arse fidgets
 till it finds

 a settled place
 for cheeks

 then they change
 your shift again

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The Fagstab

Arm on the bar of the pub
 after
 the writer’s workshop

 I order the group’s drinks
 a girl at the bar slurs
 ‘What time is it?’

 A boy behind her, lit fag
 in hand, curves round
 the girl, slurs, ‘It’s our lass!’

 A sear of pain
 under my eye,
 he pulls the hot stub
 from the surface
 of my lower eyelid.

 I take the tray
 of drinks back
 to the group.

 “Why dint Tha lamp
 him one!” they ask

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