He counts the spider’s legs as the drop to the floor,
one, two, three, four.
She calls his name again and again.
He thinks of the ways he could inflict pain.
She reminds him of an angry crow,
circling above him in the snow.
His lips are blue his fingers numb,
Why must she treat him like he’s dumb?
Come inside, it too cold in the street,
Move from the fire there’s too much heat.
Go to bed you are up too late,
Don’t play with him, he’s not your mate.
A slap on the face, and twist of skin,
High heel dragged across the shin.
Eat your greens, clear that plate,
How she fills him with so much hate.
Mummy will come for him one day.
She will lift him up and say ‘everything will be okay.’
How long had it been since she went away?
He remembers the sirens that hurt his ear.
It must be months, even a year.
Fingers wrap around his hair,
And lifts him up of the stair.
He falls to the floor with a thud.
His foster mother is not where she was stood.
She flies into the wall
His mummy is there standing tall.
She kneels down and kisses his face.
Run now, quick, make haste.
He stops when he gets to the corner of the street.
He hears his mother’s gentle voice, “Pete.”
“I’m over here,” he said with cheer.
She grabbed his hand, “Let’s go home, my dear.”
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish