Towards II

This is also from 2006, and was first published at the late lamented qarrtsiluni.

Hidden

My mother knows I’m here,

down behind the front seat in the dark space

where people in the back seat put their feet,

with gritty bits and half a rotting leaf

and a sweet paper sticking to my hand.

I just fit in here, hidden, squeezed in tight.

My father doesn’t know I’m here;

just off the London train smelling of the Times,

opening the car door tiredly climbing in -

he doesn’t know I’m here, and she pretends.

Crouching in my little place I wait,

my tummy quivering with a secret laugh.

I’ll wait until we’re driving up the hill

I’ll wait until I can’t wait any more

and then I’ll pop up just behind his head

and laugh out loud into his shiny ear

and listen to his marvellous surprise

Good heavens! I didn’t know you were there!