The Etc Poem....
It was only when I fumbled for my change
that the taxi driver noticed I had no trousers on,
it was only when you hit me with the vacuum cleaner
that I noticed all the old attachments were gone,
it was only when the bullet exploded in my heart
that I realised why you had knitted me that bulls-eye sweater,
it was only when I tasted the salt of my own blood
that I noticed you possessed a lovely upper cut,
it was only when the dog bit my Gran and then mysteriously died
that I noticed that she'd outlived all the family pets we'd ever had,
it wasn't until my auntie Margaret looked like a tiny bird
that I noticed how death needs to humiliate us before it does it's worst,
it wasn't until I watched my friend carrying the small white coffin
of his youngest child that I noticed how heavy lightness weighed,
it wasn't until I woke up with your mad cat sat on my head
that I noticed how well cats bounced off your padded walls,
it wasn't until the burglar emptied my flat
that I noticed how much crap I really hadn't any more,
it wasn't until I saw you startled and naked and pink and pert
that I noticed how much I really loved the cold mornings,
it wasn't until the poet said ' this is a poem about my big cock'
that I noticed how bloody loveless his poetry really was,
it wasn't until the Miner held my father in his arms
at my grannies graveside and kissed him on the mouth
that I noticed there was another way of being a man.
John G. Hall
If you've any comment on this poem, John G. Hall would be pleased to hear from you.