Mother is a Hustler

My mother
Would be Virgin Mary
If she had blue robes
And a school nativity baby Jesus
And a halo
Half price
From the dressing up section
In Tesco
And on her age worn face
Is always worn a smile
As valuable as the Mona Lisa
With NHS teeth

She has no notions of grandeur
And no one is beneath her
Her kindness knows no perimeters
And if Jesus
Had been wandering
Our beaten tracks
He would’ve been
Out of a job
And signing on
At the DWP

She serves burgers
For the big Maccy D’s
Tomato ketchup with a side
Of joy on your cholesterol fries
It gets her knees
But living off her pension
Gets her pocket
And eBay is so addictive

She plays the saints
At their game
She was dealt a shitty hand
But holds those cards
Like a seasoned hustler
And when her time comes
I know she’ll
Be showing God
The true meaning
Of love

©2020 Sarah Drury

Childline Lockdown

With the Coronavirus lockdown, children are at even greater risk of abuse. This could be emotional, mental, sexual or physical, but a lot of the reports the NSPCC are getting are related to emotional abuse. It is proving harder for social workers to gain access to homes due to lack of personal protective equipment, social distancing and lack of staffing.

NSPCC can be contacted here:0808 800 5000 or via help@nspcc.org.uk

Here’s a poem I wrote through the eyes of a victim.

Childline Lockdown

I don’t know what
I did wrong
Cooped up
24 hours a day
Radio blaring
Incessantly
Happy people singing
Bullshit songs
To people in
Their bullshit lives
Abusive husbands
Battered wives
Shit scared kids
As tempers fry
And swift fists fly
And I swallow all
My tears
Cos if I cry
He will get angry
Again I’m
In enough
Fucking pain

I have a friend
I call him Ted
He’s been with me
Since I was two
Keeps the monsters
Out from under
The bed
Soaks up the blood
When my dad
Sees red
But it’s the monsters
In the daytime
I’m really scared of
I call them dad
And mum

Social workers
Knocking on the door
But mum knows how
To play it
Long sleeves
Hide the bruises
Walked into the door
Hit my head
On the table
So careless
One day I’d probably
End up dead
Social worker suspicious
But dad always says
I was clumsy

Ted understands me
I can tell him
Anything
When dad is
Screaming
Temper raging
Ted helps me to sing
Over the Rainbow
If I had a phone
Then I would ring
Childline
But it’s the fists
I fear

And it’s a long time
Till I am sixteen
Then I will tell
Them all
To fuck themselves
That day I’ll
Be queen
In my own kingdom
And there’ll be no
Fists for bombs
No ‘what did I do
So fucking wrong?’
And I will shine
That day
Like a
Rainbow

©2020 Sarah Drury