i want to be like them
The Missing
i want a feature in the Big Issue
the ‘ last seen’ scenario
‘she seemed fine at the drop off!’
parked at the school gates
waving goodbye to boys 6 and 8
in her favourite coat,
non branded, clean, parka green.
the despair of staying here
makes my nurture seem like torture
there’s only comfort in escape
i want to get away up the M8
music on full blast
shoebox of stashed cash
start a new life
no questions asked.
but i imagine you
led back to the school
only a weary teacher to wait with
then driven back
when I don’t return
to a house no longer a home.
i won’t leave my children
a legacy of loss.
i cant be like them.
The Missing are those who go
and stay gone
i’ll be the one
dashing back for the pick up
shouting ‘sorry i’m late’
last seen
at the school gate
clutching kids.
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