They pray to God and pray and pray for God’s sake to be saved. They’re swaying rolling. Palms out rigid. Letting in the Holy Spirit. Come and make our lives a perfect sacrifice to thee. Russians blowing up the world. Pray for them. For all the Chinese going to hell. For the black pope that’s the last one. Him as well even if he’s next. I nudge. Could Satan be talking through? No. There’s holy water eejit and not much terror in you. You are filling with redemption. But I am for it. Me and my sins. Listen as they do it speaking loud in a thousand tongues. Could Germans understand it maybe French? Sounds A la la ka leash a na to me.
But when they go and it is night I’m a bit heart stopped. Gives chest hurt fright. Make the sign of the cross and I’ll be fine. You’ll be got because you drew on Christ, dirty thing. No if I die before I wake I pray to God my soul to take God bless you me Mammy Granda and Granny and don’t let the end of time be tonight. You say thank you god for being so good and are not afraid of the dark.
If it’s summer before the sun goes down I sometimes leg it from the holy joes. Mammy I have to go toilet and go and run hand-washed to stare into the sun. That’s a good job. That’ll make me a strong one. I heard three times makes you blind. But mine’s in secret so I stare fine for it won’t ever blind me. God holy holying you though. He might be some kind of saint. They have never met your like. Manys a mother would’ve given up hope. Her arm on your shoulder. Her gentle stroke your head. I don’t know where I’d be without him.
I’m just bit on the wild, bit of a pup. Nothing interesting to prick a curate. Not like Hail Mary’s you say as well as Glory be. For fun Father and the souls in purgatory that they be saved — he said to me — now where did he get that but God?
Still. I can leg it down the drain. Inside under Jesus I make my dash out in the rain. Slap mud sandals. Slap mud all up my socks. I’ll skid it. Scutter it. Holding thistles for fairy soup or foxgloves bad luck teacher calling giddy goat or I will tell your mother you were saying shite. Making out curses and people die. I can. Being magic. Saying fucker Christ. Into the fields. My bad words best collection. All the things my mother never taught me. To shit in a field or run in from the rain. So I knew it always then and do it all the time. Oh crouch. Dock leaf. Plopped. True I could be killed for that. Such elicit outdoor. And a white one too. Should not have been licking chalk. I couldn’t bide the loud Do not. Theeverysooften crunchy crunch. And white guilty gums. Poison I know. I’ll die from it. But a little one. Ah a sneaky one and Oh I quail to think of that. You did something you should not have. Chalk’s your downfall. Chalk’s your crime. Day in school I. Didn’t lick the blackboard just my hand. Smacked it palmly on. And sweet chalk powder licky to my tongue. Swoon through lunch know I’ll get caught or Who did that disgusting thing? Where’s the glantóir? Teacher roaring. Who’d dare violate this board? She better confess because I always know. Panic runs lines across my face. I won’t raise my hand. She’ll kill me stone dead. Who did that? Nets not cast wide. The pair of ye, get up.
They trup foot heavy but will not confess. Did you do it? No teacher. You’re lying. I can tell. Ye little tinker bitches. Itinerants, I know to say. Not in my house will you call people tinker Mammy says. No one’s tinker to you Miss. But our teacher does. Always smelly tinkers. Tinkers sit over there for living in caravans and get more walloped than anyone else. There. Always back to ye she says. Troublemakers. She knows them well. I sweat hands knowing I should tell. That love of chalk. Those smear is me. She crack their foreheads hard to each. Crack. Pulled to by the pony plaits with neat grease ribbons. I’m shame to that. They stand gloss-eyed and rub their heads. That’ll learn you. Get out of my sight she says and they reddy stare over the stone school wall. Looking at bushes with snail trails on. Snails at their noses. Snails in their eyes. No Daddy theirs will say don’t to my child. I know that. No Daddy mine. Go on ye so, and trup them down to snuffle lie sore heads on their desks. Noses dripping in their cuffs. Teacher scrubbing hands on a j-cloth. Don’t touch them little scums. I tuck my white hand in to lick at later on. Later. Alligator. Cat.
Not there, I walked around and around. That house had up hill down dale. Steps and mud. Those wellies red. Umbrella. Wondrous being dry. See fat drops plop and run like a river down for flies. Spiders. That time it was always raining. Summer. Spring. I don’t know though when we were or where. Puddles and puddles very good for sailing peanut barge shells over. Like over and over the sea. Or this is Lough Corrib or this is the Nile. I’d like littler men to sail them but. Your soldiers aren’t mine.
And sometimes you have schoolbags. A tie. Little sisters are. Yuck. I hate girls in the schoolyard. But still lie belly on the stairs with me. Who zooms quickest? Face first? Feet? Would you ever mind your brother’s head. Boys on bikes are better and I am left boat floating behind. They always ask what’s the scar in your hair? One threw a stone at your birthday that cut your ear. She grabbed him by the jumper. Little fecker don’t you ever do that again or I’ll. Everyone thinks our mother’s a bit and desperate because where’s the man in that house and who will teach those children right from wrong? Up to all sorts and in my day we were la la la. I’d say that’s what they say.
Strange. Pushed out to the ocean of school. Wave back occasional to her shore. Hi there, Mammy. Never see me more without my secret life again. I spy boy’s urinal. Kill red things on the wall. Snap and broke the elastic waistband of some girl. I’m telling. Her Mam. Mam. Mammy or. You’ll get a thick ear for being noisy. And I never learned times tables. Scaldered to the spot. What’s seven times twelve? Never learned that. Thicko to the front. Face the class. Now for you. Have a smack. Was all that happened for years. And my head is good for secrets. I can bang it on the wall. It takes the nervous out and no one bothers for it at all.
So. This as well when no one looks. Go n’eírí an bóthar leat while the wind be always at your back. Run up the fields. Blink to the house. Go sun blindness. Turn my arse. Lift to fly. Balloon across the earth. Puff ball keep your knick-knacks covered. Belting on the wind me. Beating me at my own game. Scup there skirts and give us a dance. Be pelted by the dark rains. Feet wet like trough. Soak them blue to black through flesh and bone. Scratch my arms on fairy blackthorn. Knee cut rocks for learning how to fly. Whip grass cut hands and lips on a scutch pipe. I’ll call all the fairies and ones living underground. For I know they’re listening. Will give me thorns in my pockets and thorns in my bed. I’ll jig on their houses til my lips turn red. I’ll give you a whirl twirl. A smack on the paddy whack but Get in this house. Get in this house you, always, always comes.
Skating on the beach. I dreamed it. Empty sort on a yellow sky day cliff. In the evening of it. All alone though gulls are there. Cormorants I know. Chicks and hens. Buttery throat calls squawks. Dipping fish out. Wheeling in it turn and dive. Flutter like a panic wings that they would all fall down above me. I hate those bird feet hanging. Rubbery storm air though blowing over the water. Coursing I think. That clouds and wind skiteing sand spray floats of it up. Catching at the back of me. In the bad time of year. This is. Roller-skates. Tying-on ones. Butterfly screw and lace up ones. Heavy and leather over my shoes buckle red ones on. Rollering on the sand front. Going foot to foot to foot to foot. Spinning wheels round digging. Crunch as glass on the axel rod. And then water heaving up behind me. I hear. Fling itself at my legs. Giving a howl out. Drag across the stones. Dragging at me. Drag me in. See the sand dunes. The sting sea grass whipping vicious in the wind. Waves purple chocolate. Snaking at my ankles. Trip me up. Falling on my hands and face. The ocean. Am I drowning? Red knees in my red tights fallen on the foam. I am in it. Gushing back for more of it. The waves are more and rolling over. Back up me. Over me. Soaked and leaden crawling on the dust. My red coat. Sogging. Face down and shrunken in a hood. My faceful of sand. Mouthful of sand. My hands clawing under water tow me out. Heavy head. Heart going mad panic stricken. Saying out. Names. You. You. That type of lung screaming out. Raw and whistle-ish screaming no sound. Expel. Expel it. No one hear me. Struggle. Help me. Gurgle. Glugle. Salted mouth pit. Salted seaweed tongue. Drowning. Gasping. Filled up to the nose and the eyes and the brain. And going cold now. Going under. I am. I am. Going. I am gone. Stop. Up. Breath. Breathe.