“Yes… But, Your Parents Weren’t Fucking Monsters, Were They!”

Oh, for Christ Sake, Bekki
… look at the Blood…
get off the bed, slowly
…dear me, your pretty
new cardigan is ruined.
Let Nurse Roberts…

has she? not again
… how many of ‘em
has she inserted this time?

Of course it’s stinging,
whatcha expect, silly girl
… cry, come on, cry,
break the seal and let it out
… there, there,
that’s better, isn’t it…
no-no, not me, no apron
… go to Nurse Roberts,
she’ll give you a nice hug.

I’m going to go and get
an Orderly in yuh…
to mop all this mess up.
Then, we’re taking you
to play [Foreign Object]
flesh-hide-and-seek…
before stitching-up
all your new War Wounds.

Paul Tristram is a widely published Welsh writer who deals in the Lowlife, Outsider, and Outlaw genres.  He wrote his first poem as a teenager following his release from the (Infamous) Borstal ‘HMP Portland’, and he has been creating Literary Terrorism ever since. Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.