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This poem is taken from PN Review 57, Volume 14 Number 1, September - October 1987.

The Day Grevel Lindop
The Day

l
The dark's gone. I don't want to go to bed
any more. I think it's breakfast time,
the window's pink. Are you awake, Gerard?
He breathes a noise like water. I won't climb on him.

This other room curtain keeps in the darkness.
The folded bits in the corner look out like monsters
so I flap the daylight open and turn them into clothes.
The dark hair shiny on the cushion's Mummy's,

all this side's Daddy's bed and he's asleep
like a mountain under the coloured squares
except where his beard comes out and his face turns
  up.
He'll look at me if I can open his eyes.

2
I want the blue dress. I can do it myself.
I'm lost in the scratchy blue, my face is getting stuck
finding the hole. When I pull far enough
the light breaks open and it's round my neck.

Don't do my ears. The noise gets squeezed out of them
then comes back wet. The flannel's cold and hot,
...


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