This Is What Happens

It’s Sunday afternoon and she’s in the wash house standing in stocking feet on the roof of the
old doll’s house, the one Uncle John Murphy made, and she’s rocking backwards and
forwards …bored, bored, bored…
rebod rebod rebod rebod rebod rebod rebod rebod rebod rebod rebod

She’s thinking about visiting the ‘You can always come tomorrow’ lady in Loxley Road.
Yesterday, she stopped her and her best friend, Sandra, as they were coming home from the
park just as it was getting dark. She said, did they know where Loxley Road was and would
they take her there? She said she’d give them both a chocolate biscuit if they did. They
wanted a biscuit but didn’t go with her because they were late for their teas and so the lady
said, ‘You can always come tomorrow.’

wormroot moorwort wormroot moorwort wormroot moorwort,

Sandra’s gone out after her Sunday dinner with her mam and uncle Frank. He rides a
motorbike with a side car for Sandra to ride in. Sandra’s mam puts both arms round Uncle
Frank’s waist and sits behind him on the bike. Sometimes, Uncle Frank takes her with them
to the Breakwater and she shares the side car with Sandra. They sit side by side on the seat
and there’s room to stretch their legs right out. Feet and bottoms nearly touch the ground.
Uncle Frank closes the plastic hood over their heads and they wave at everyone but they’re
gone before they can turn round to see if they wave back. This Sunday they left her behind.

The Loxley lady promised her a chocolate biscuit.

You can always come tomorrow

Can you always come tomorrow?

One little girl knocks on the door
One woman’s head turns in the dark
One woman’s heels tap-tapping on the floor
One little girl come to say hello
One woman opens wide the door and,
O
One little girl, inside she goes …

Silence’ 2019 University of Canberra Vice-Chancellor International Poetry Prize International Poetry Studies Institute 2019