PRESENTS FROM MY BOYFRIENDS PERMISION TO WRITE

By Paul Sutton on

ai presents.
Image by Alpha India

Can I write an epistolary novel

on this pale working-class girl

groomed like an estate princess

with Primark’s luxuries then raped

in a circle by men of faith who offer

bargain booze when it’s over then

drop her by an empty shopping centre?

 

Of course not, the subject isn’t allowed.

You ask is that fair? Study their culture.

Britain’s rapacious rule of India where

a diamond was taken. Don’t bother me

with innocence, such natives have none.

 

Summer days when she swung up for the sky,

pushed by those who loved her and let her fly?

 

Just read my report, there’s nothing to say.

You fester in anger as this story drifts away.


I worry if my daughter with a penis which

swings between her legs will ever play

football that's not ridiculed or swim races

leading the pack. You want other concerns?

Which pronouns go on badges, how to address

students who are trans in Year 7 plus bipolar

then develop global-warming phobia when

a dealer gets killed in Minnesota or wherever.

I’m studying in my spare-time. I read

Times’ articles – two in Nature – and now

wear masks everywhere, including my car.

Such girls spread it vaping or in their tears.


DAYS WITH DARK WATER

Prose is too viscous, but I cannot paint;

my words will have to work. I saw her first

going in and out of shops, cars, buses.

Nothing to note but there must have been

something or I wouldn’t be writing. Maybe

it’s not how people stand, but in the way

they move from place to place, skittering,

showing nowhere feels safe.


‘Flitting’ is the word I wanted.

Tuneless whistling of a delivery man

summoning her like some sad bird to

its rattling cage bars. Absurd to have

such fancies, but she tottered around

his van then hopped in the back.

I’ll write my first letter:

Dear Young Lady who Flits,

How odd to address you as such!

I must not rush; this may be my

only chance. Stay slow and calm,

I’ll keep telling myself.

I fear you’re in danger;

you already know it.

Notice how I used a

semi-colon there as

I was once a teacher.

Men from the east are

crueller than any even

you may have met. In

a local garden centre

I bought a paperback on

the Mongol conquests.

I’d recommend The Works –

it’s not just for true crime or

books of different horoscopes.

I don’t think those migration

Issues are from the past.

There is grooming and it

will have happened to you:

Days with dark water, summer,

but overcast, some gardens –

Derby say – by the wide Derwent.

You were Year 8, friendship issues,

so you walked on your own by

the open river, after school

on the last day of term.

Then in an abandoned house

on a dual carriageway?

The outskirts of all towns

in England have one.

Gaunt, high walled,

some barbed wire,

planks for windows.

Cars speed by yet

no one ever stops.

No one could see what

happened so I’lllet my

imagination run wild.

Will you write back

and say you’re safe?


YOU ONCE KNEW

Dear Sir,

I say this as you were a teacher when I hardly did much school. You

write like I’m a sad child but it’s me in charge and you are surely

a paedo? I found some dumb poem by you about a place like that

river where I got caught. I don’t regret it now. It’s always too late:

Like a place you once knew but were seeing

somehow for the first time, washed clean in

clear sunlight without your worries. Be still my

memories, those permanent blocks; sudden

is the word needed for anything now entering

this field of view, be it birds or slight movement

in a tree by an empty sky in the late day’s blue of

impossible clarity, holding neither cold nor warmth.


I don’t think it’s no good but might be and would make no

difference. Not to you and certainly not to me. You could get up

and sing about me in some pub. Either no one would listen, or

everybody would and no one would care.

I used ‘would’ too many times – words like that say a lot about me.

I don’t mean Karaoke, which gets them crying, or two-for-one and

meal deal extra grill.

Even then I think eating is more important. Probably makes no sense

but write back where you left your first letter.

That house is not what you think. It’s still a kids’ home and good

people work there.

Those boys who lurk also bring takeaways – Tikka sometimes.

Who don’t need it once every while?


LET ME IMAGINE

In our English towns, how it is to be poor;

staggering like in a Russian novel:

a girl alone with gaping strangers.

Maybe you could go to Greggs

as they do cheap sausage rolls

perhaps a corned-beef pasty?

I had one and vomited it on

the pavement in Kidlington.


When I dropped this letter off

I slowed on the dual carriageway

took a sharp left into closed gates.

Is that usual? I saw faces from upper

windows though not yours. Presumably

you don’t live there anymore. A swift hand

from the gate grabbing for delivery. Thirty

pounds thrust in my palm, which I return for

some healthy food. Greek yoghurt is best

maybe bubble tea. I went behind the house

and saw a lonely garden, a broken swing and

scorched grass around a tin-tray barbeque

from a garden centre. Was there a party?


NOT MUCH ANYWHERE ANYMORE

Dear Sir,

It was my leaving-do not a school prom exactly but they did what

they could!! As you says parking is hard and access not good so

many friends couldn’t make it to the house. And who are you to

laugh??

Sorry maybe you’re not but it’s easy to drive past and say who’d live

on some dual carriageway who’d have a barbeque in a garden with

nothing but a broke swing who’d live at all really.

One day I’’ll look at you find where you live sit and watch you’d

better be careful. I know how sick are all levels of men so don’t be

fixed on those boys some who loved me as they knew best.

I can’t complain if I could I’d be giving back so many things I never

had till they gave them to me for nothing really. I sound so angry

when I can’t be now. It puts everyone off. No need to be some

nutjob who loses it in Aldi screaming down aisles shoving at the

checkout as eyes all around are rolling.

I don’t understand any of your letters but it’s better to get them than

not to so write again if you want to. Such will always find me but as

you say I don’t live there not much anywhere anymore.


I HAD A FIGHT

If you find my letters so meaningless

maybe this will help. I was involved in

an ‘incident’ delivering this one –

I beat the shit out of some cunt who was

trying to intimidate me. Don’t you

realise that most middle-class people

bubble with resentment, dissolved over

decades? So I struck first, a kick straight in

his cobblers, thumb into an eye socket

then rapid steam-hammering of the bonce.


 

Well, he lay stricken. If this was one of

your ‘boys’ then you say sorry for me. I

trust this message is intelligible!

You signed off with weary nihilism

so I thought this sign of my physical

willingness to fight in your cause, although

no longer a young man, would release you

from such hopelessness. I send now also

a pamphlet by a man named Nietzsche to

explain how my actions really might help.


POSTSCRIPT

Bad Sir,

You are a mad sod shithead. I got your pamphlet – wrote cowardly

under some dumb name – saying God is Dead and you have killed

him. It was in that hot garden, no shade, just me. Too much so I

went to the garage for Magnums.

One of my boys read it and no choice but to beat me near dead then

eat the salted caramel one.

 

He tells that’s why I need treating like they do.

There is only one God and that name is whispered in their ear when

born and when dead. He shouted it in my shell then had me hard.

Said I was lucky for that – next time I’d hear it when petrol plus lit

match through the letterbox.

Tell Mr Nietzsche, I can spell and he is not dead. He’s coming for you

if I tip him your name.

So what is it?

But be careful if you come here again. Eyes watch us all now – it’s

safer that way.


HIS LAST WORDS

Child, I pray you’ll somehow always be safe,

never awake worrying through the night.

On this world’s surface, how would I find you

if you’d wandered lost, somewhere all alone?

I’d wind my window down. The lonely moon

shining over scorched fields now cooling and

the taste of meadows after rain. Let the

wind alone whisper you this poetry –

doesn’t matter where, long after I’m gone;

reaching your ear, taking you safely home.