No Hand to Hold.

...walking as fast as I could,
no collar on my coat, no hood,
no hand to hold on to,
little face patched blue,
teeth chatter...flamenco fairies feet,
cellophane eyes, glazed.
Pee trickling down my leg
no back street or a loo.
Hanging hems, missing buttons,
Split soles flap and squeak,
sodden socks, chilblains, dirty water.
Poor pauper!
Rain rams hard, slash my freckles,
hailstones bomb my boney body.
Terrified! Can’t describe.
Unsettled...
...strange room, never seen before,
pins, needles prick my legs,
feet sore.
Chair and me, frayed and worn.
My peer pierced the pained pane.
No cares, smothered in rain,
Not a glance back, a nod goodbye....
She disappeared, clacked gate...
my fate...
Hysterical, incapable.
...a whip of belt on legs, bare,
screamed against,
another whip.
Grandma said...
‘Ya need lockin’up!
Twenty-fifth of December, an invisible day.
No birthdays, no cards on the mantle 
or a wax-running melted candle.
Scragged on the oilcloth,
crawled in a gap, eyes frozen,
a single blink in my sanctuary hideaway 
under the sink...a discarded pup.
Distraught, I fought the dark,
thought I was mad...
down to the abuse I’d had.
It’s them! Troubled with their callous heads...
... slid into a stare,
thrown upstairs by the neck’s nape.
Loner’s bedroom, snitch clicked door,
ward-worn bed,
striped pillow, black and white.
Army coat eiderdown.
A string slashed marionette,
curled, with no heart.
This day I died......
Two years old.