This Town This Life

by Dawn Hunt

 

Winner of the English Student Division of the 2004 Language and Learning Centre/Royal Literary Fund Student Writing Competition

 

 

Gorgeous pristine summer

Mother and child step into

This new place.

 

The air is light and vibrant where the sun shines

Only leaving a cool trail of Welsh winter/spring.

Some are only just

Friendly.

 

And then

7 shades of hostility.

 

The shimmering blue sky

The soft white sand beach,

Packed with west-midland tourists

Provides a facade for what is yet to come.

 

Hostility in the first house is rife.

The tenants are shallow-minded

Robots

Go from 9 till 5

Structure

Straight straight straight!

 

Outside it’s summer

For her,

It is January inside.

 

They fly past her on the stairs.

Who is she?

 

Whispers whispers:

About the crumbs in the kitchen

The blood left behind

With the razor’s cut.

 

They don’t “like her”

The shallow small talk provides no disguise.

 

They don’t like the child.

In the house

In the street.

 

He makes happy squeals

Cheerful chirps

And sometimes a plaintive calling sound.

 

What is his—rrr

Problem?

 

Mum “can’t” cope.

She

Struggles!

On her own

Always on her own.

She

Needs needs needs help!

In walks Nanny Britain

The life police!

They pretend that they can be trusted

All the time inspecting—

Eyes on the floor

The little drop of dirt

A piece of paper.

 

They need to do their job!

Arrange her

“Help her”

Oh the child…

And what about the poor child?

 

He’s dressed clean

Healthy life

Believes in the fairies

Loves his earth mama

Happy smile

Beautiful boy

 

Who is she?

She’s

Oh dear oh dear…

Old lady springs to her feet when—

She and the child walk into the café.

 

“Oh here darling, let me…”

 

She sneers and cringes in disgust and anger

 

Patronising

At the lack of respect.

 

She’s

Oh but she’s not a mum,

Not a woman

Just a girl

 

She needs needs needs

Help!

One person was welcoming

 

One person made them both food

In the new house.

 

What’s her story?

Where’s she from?

 

They saw you last night

You were…

 

Oh but she’s kindarrr

Scary

Too real

Doesn’t blend in

She’s bright and

Psycho-delic.

 

Nice to look at, but…

Different

 

Has the nerve to say when she’s offended.

 

Oh in “this but”?

Not on her own

She doesn’t belong.

 

In the pub she walks

All the men are shrouded in oblivious smoke

They look up.

 

Oh!

She’s—rrr

Uh

Feet shuffle

And his pint.

 

The life police watch her every move.

The microscope follows wherever she goes.

They found out that she

They heard…

Someone called in and said…

 

Oh dear oh dear

And what about the child?

He

Got ill.

She allowed him to get ill!

Took him somewhere dangerous and free

We know!

We saw it on the news

We saw it through our tunnel-vision.

 

She sits alone

Always alone.

 

Aching

hungry

starved

not loved

 

never liked

wanted

sought for

 

People are

Repelled

Scared

Don’t know what to say.

 

What “do you do with her?”

She needs needs needs

Help.

 

Up the stairs

To find the door.

 

Don’t ask her to the party

Don’t invite her for a drink.

Just help her!

 

They don’t talk to her

But behind her

 

Questions

Little whispers

 

And then,

Talk about something more comfortable.

 

Don’t touch her

 

She

Wouldn’t understand.

 

Are you alright love?

 

Men think

Shag her!

Well but…

She can’t “see me”

To add to my

Uh

Secure picture frame

You know what I need…

She?

Just needs looking after

Get her out the door

‘Cause it makes me feel like a man

To help

Good Samaritan.

What, her?

 

She shouts in the wind

Trying

Demanding

To be heard.

 

Tears aren’t there

Just rocks

That have weighed her down

For years.

 

dry

numb

 

there is no love.

only for the child

because the child allows her to

because the child loves her back

 

but “they” don’t.

 

the middle-aged woman in the wholefood shop

is miserable,

distant and cold.

she serves her

because she has to…

 

her red hot anger burns.

smouldering

volcano

Waiting to erupt.

Waiting to explode.

 

the other students are

afraid

scared

what do they “do with her?”

just help her

just help her.

 

not to the party

not to the pub.

 

not with us

he wouldn’t

couldn’t take her out

she

well

is different.

needs looking after

And uh-rrrrr

how would she know about…

would she know what to do

or where to put it

and what about…

 

her intellect is left to rot away.

would anyone listen?

would anyone want it?

would anyone care?

 

she knows the answer

don’t tell them

her thoughts

they’d freak

they wouldn’t like to know

that she hates them all

because they hate her first.

 

Reject her

Because they’re repelled.

She

Needs needs needs

Help!

 

They used to shove it down her throat

In the last town.

The grabbing hands

The constant constant

“Are you alright love?”

The middle-aged bag’s voice would

And always will

Patronise

Belittle.

 

oh, it must be so hard to…”

 

well,

what if she went to

Patagonia

Or Trinidad

or an island all her own.

 

there’d be no frowning

no rejection

no misery

no hostility

 

she wouldn’t be seen as needy needy needy.

she might find love with the animals and the sea  there.

she might find truth

she might even find acceptance

with the trees.

 

but in this town…

and, what if

she said

she was bi

and maybe didn’t need need need

men, anyway?

 

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhh a gasp

red flag!

 

It’s time to go

time to break free

time to get out of this town

 

break free of this life

it’s the loneliest life I’ve ever known.

 

 

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