Frankie can’t imagine

telling Dad, saying
the words I’m gay.
He didn’t have to
with Mam – but she’s
always had a different way
of communicating. Mam
just knows things,
but keeps them to herself,
keeps the peace.
Dad would blow his top,
most likely. Frank tries to picture
the moment how and when:
in the car? over tea?
Dad I’ve got something to tell yer…
but after that his mind
goes blank.
He’s discreet
when and where he meets
Paul. Always in town,
anonymous, away from neighbours.
Nebby spies, the lot of them.
says Frank. They go clubbing
or to pubs, as long as Paul buys
using his ID. Sometimes
the cinema, or a walk
on the sands at Whitley Bay.
Not for long, never in private.
They daren’t hold hands
or touch, though sometimes
Paul will catch him behind a wall
down a back lane, and snatch
a kiss, like a spark of electricity
that leaves them breathless,
laughing, the sun, the sea
a perfect backdrop
to their summer romance.

This entry was posted in Hom: Ellen Phethean. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.