I Am From Poem

I am from marmite on toast with melty butter

From Hohner harmonicas and Embassy fags

I am from the fleas jumping up my legs, the nightly itchy bottom, pink medicine and the mouldy catshit under the piano that ate away at the carpet.

I am from dad’s borage overtaking the garden, starflowers for too strong Wimbledon Pimms

I'm from Top of the Pops on a Thursday, temazepam, teasing, trumpets and everyone ‘In a Silent Way´

From Hope and Helen

I'm from the ‘always late’ and ‘I´ve got nothing to wear´'

From ´funny the first time´ and ´Your father is impossible`

I'm from Lord Byron, Osip Mandelstam, Donald Winnicott and R.D. Laing

From ‘I’ve Lapsed’ to ‘Grant me patience darling Lord’

From the Middlesex Hospital, La Jolla, Stratford, Arsenal and India

Ì am from the front door that was never locked, the finger she broke on purpose, so that she would not have to learn the violin, Big Band Jazz touring Africa to entertain the troops, Ecclesiastical embroidery, Brandreth's Pills and the stillbirth that left her mute for a year.

I am from the waiting piles of boxes stuffed full of jumbled mouldy and torn memorabilia that are in the cellar of my dead mothers house awaiting eviction day.