memoir | Paul Robert Mullen

we’d ogle the skies
across residential streets        the distant peaks
way above pirouetting chimney smoke
falling asleep satisfied
shattered from biking
the valleys after school kick out

you would point          your fingers looked
frail even then
a single colossal elm dominating
the corner of our cul-de-sac
our den / your refuge
the town lighting up like christmas

we moved away one summer

it ripped me up
inside
like unwanted mail

you waved as we pulled away
the back seat loaded with
junk and me

there were no lights
no carnival                  when we stopped
at the services i asked dad
if i’d see you again

he gave me an ice-cream
turned the radio up

 


Paul Robert Mullen is a poet, musician and sociable loner from Liverpool, U.K. He has three published poetry collections: curse this blue raincoat (2017), testimony (2018), and 35 (2018).  He also enjoys paperbacks with broken spines, and all things minimalist. His Twitter is @mushyprm35