Email Poem

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Poem

Four months pregnant
show them the belly.
Real not plastic,

Ultrasound glares pierce
a lack of eye contact

stuck at the Papa John's
on Fountainbridge. Eleven PM.

Drunken men to be avoided.

A place to stay - no,
money for a place to stay.
It's my first.

I thought  I'd get paid
but Jesus was crucified

now I can't pay for an inn
- it's not like there's stables in the city.

Be friendly, hold eye contact, someone will help.

I'm autistic you see, so sorry
then they leave. It's all a scam.

The hostel are holding my bags
I'm here for my friend who

who cares anyway.
Find a friend to stay with
no but I don't trust - I don't trust you.

I'm four months pregnant.
I get paid in four days
take my passport.

I'm here for a memorial for
my friend that killed themselves
four years today.

What do you want?
Fifty quid.
Not a chance.

Alleyways are free.
At least I'm not being crucified.
At least I'm a ferry ride away.
At least, at least my baby's alive.

Did I tell you what happened in Spain?

I was spiked with acid,
assaulted maybe I can't remember.

That's why I need my own room to sleep.
Do you understand?

Lack of trust, place to stay,
I'll give you my passport.
I promise I'll pay

you back and the world too

For the things it's done to me.
Perform a miracle right now;

Let me run across water 
back to Dublin then I'll

come back here with money
to show them. The bump is real.

Nobody cares still, even if I could get back
who would want to see that.

I'll sleep here.
On the pavement with indented glass.
I'll lie arms stretched
and stare at the moon.
I'll keep my baby safe
while I fight drunkards and neds alike.
Stranded for now on the day of crucifixion
with Good Friday left gaping ready to listen.

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