Child Care

Gina Wisker

We’ve such a lot in common,
me and Grendel’s mother. The long haul of
bringing up boys.
You can never win. Whether you’re at the school gate, holding
an extra sweater by the muddy football pitch
on a Friday afternoon in rainy November
or sending them off to battle
in the mead hall against the riotous
Berserkers.
Armed with axe and machete,
lance and hubris hurling
taunts and insults, swords and even tables in the
mêlée of your boy’s visit their
arms and legs lopped off in the
resulting mess of an uninvited crisis. Or
mixing tons of pasta for the unexpected
loitering mates who,
dubious and unexplained, are
here tonight, tomorrow gone
returning to remove valuables, smash windows.
No one can trust them nowadays
the boys.
They’ll try and beat your boy up for
tribal dispute or trifles, bringing in some new thugs
with horned helmets or darkened cars.
Boastful.
Braggadocio in the hallway.
Eyeing the mead and the precious metals.
Sizing up the loot and booty.
A spot of pillage in mind.
And the boy,
always so straightforward in his manner of justly ensuring that
invasions and insistences are returned. So,
either ripped apart down by the park railings or
out there in the wild, it’s me and Grendel’s mum who are
picking up the pieces and
staunching the wounds. Nurturer or confidante, we’ve
always an eye out for the boy. Aware,
whatever the result, it
will make a good tale.

---

Sleeping and Waking

Gina Wisker

You've got to have some sympathy for him,
the roaming non-Prince.
Not really seeking a real sleeping beauty
in the overgrown garden,
a house covered with cobwebs
and memory.
But what’s a guy to do?
Having woken the now ageing, non-Princess
with a barely remembered kiss?
Suddenly overwhelmed with expectation
of companionship and conversation,
the construction of plans and deadlines –
dreams as an everyday part of
a new life plan she’s
shattering his domestic peace with demands,
ignoring issues about the drains
and the mundane.
Her gratitude and energy affecting his trammelled trajectory
of middle aged conventionality.
Money spent on kitchens.
New taps in the bathroom.
But she's not really into B&Q.
Awakened suddenly from this long sleep,
she's not after some home-based catalogue
conventionality,
but something more demanding.
Peculiar perhaps,
imaginative, luxurious, perilous
and passionate.
What’s the non-Prince to do?
This was just an everyday trip.
Like suddenly taking home a Gremlin,
Warned about letting them near water he
hasn't a clue how to react
to what he's woken up.

Desperately clambering back through the brambles
and back onto his white stallion, he’s off.
You can hardly see him for dust.

---