When We Were Six

The first and only time
you were six, you recall
being five...before
you realised life isn’t
all sweet cigarettes
and aniseed balls...trips
to the zoo and the park...

that there are such things
as demons, and sometimes
it’s ok to be afraid of the dark;

that having your hair washed –
getting water in your ears
won’t stay sloshing around
your head and make you
permanently deaf. That
eating crusts definitely
doesn’t make your hair curl.

That grown-ups aren’t always
all they’re cracked up to be,
and that Uncle Jeremiah
has bad breath, and clammy
hands and that sitting on his
lap is not the place to be...

that everything born
has to die...the fear
that gripped you...

The last and only time
you were six you remember
being seven...that vets
aren’t always nice...
that cats don’t have
nine lives, and that,
right then, you start
believing, like hell,
in heaven.