Frankie looks scared

He looks like a bairn, white faced
with a green tinge round his nose:
Sorry Mam, is all he says
she says For What ?
Then he gives her the bottle. She doesn’t understand:
Have you been nicking stuff ? Taking Drugs?
He sits down, his eyes glaze –
I took them all.

How many? She says, How many have ye taken! ?
as she gets her mobile, dials 999
she’s gabbling Ambulance, send an ambulance!
Frankie starts to vomit onto the floor
then a man’s voice, clear, slow
We’re on our way, what’s the bottle? How many missing?
She screams I divvent fucking know.
Hurry jesus christ hurry.
It seems hours, but it’s only five minutes later
the house is full of green suits and yellow jackets
rubber tubes and the smell of vomit and Frankie so limp
and Mam crying and trying to hold her mobile
and she can’t her hand shakes that much
she prays to God, to Mary and Fucking Jesus, the Pope
any bugger to save her Frankie
then she’s in the ambulance
she can’t remember his date of birth or her address
and the man says:
He’ll be all right. Don’t worry.

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