149

I would wake late in the
            Night and hear shouting
                        Coming through the floor
And the long sound of
            Ma crying and the fall of
                        Papa's boots on the timber
Of the kitchen floor.
            The sound of his low talk
                        Was worse than the raised
Voices and I could hear
            My chest going and pain
                        In my throat and bones.
The air was thick and hot
            That summer and Lou
                        Was in the back room sick.
I knew John would be
            Awake through the wall. He
                        Would hear their voices.
I would shudder for a long
            Time and then go to sleep
                        And wake up hours later in
The damp and watch the first
            Light and the sparrows cross
                        The air between the treetops
And I would lie out of the
            Window with my head back
                        Below the ledge and the sky
Under me. A soft rain and
            My breathing and the last stars
                        And the air was in a cage.