Munchausen

When I was nine I fell
In love with Miss Beeton.
Because she liked my stories:
An original mind she said.
After that they were hers
Words coursing like a new channel
Undammed and uncharted
And deafening as my new-born heart
Waiting for the scent
Of her hair at my shoulder.

When she asked me
I read them to the class
And found myself in heaven
Just before home-time.
She gave me sweets to suck
Cherry menthol
To mend my throat
Hoarse with love.

When she announced her engagement
I must have slipped her mind
So I moved to join the brownies
To be her guard of honour.
But this pack was
Marking new territory
And quietly cast me out
With a blank stare
Drawn by the pungent promise of my fear.

That was too unfair
And my page only half-filled

Then it came to me
In the toilets.
I stored the soap under my nails
Then crammed it into parched tear-ducts
Wailing and floundering
Like a blind stray in a tempest
To dislodge a story
That was forged in a damp exercise book
Long before she sent me away.

That was the first time
But what I remember
Is that I wanted to be with her always
That she alone could change things
But I kept finding myself
In this place
Where all stood still
With my eyes stinging in the dark
And my heart as cold as a winter spinney
And as hard as my father's belt-buckle.