Batel was showing me
how to fold up
my shirt sleeves
although I knew how


I liked her fingers
touching my arm
her eyes searching me
as she did it


got it?
she asked
sure it looks easy
when you do it


she walked off smiling
and I watched her
wiggling backside
move away


I carried on
with my work
at the nursing home
making beds


tidying up
the rooms
taking some
of the old guys


to the lavatory
or for a bath
or talking with them
about the old days


about their war
dead friends


and old Sidney
singing the Red Flag


loudly as he bathed
his croaky voice
very moving
and I sang along


to make him happy
but it was Batel
who came to me later
and said


how's the shirt sleeves?
they’ve come down again
I said
shall I do them


again for you?
that'd be good
you are flirting
she said smiling


I’m working
I said
on me


she said
as if I would
I said
she folded up


my shirt sleeves
and I sensed her fingers
on my skin
maybe you could


come to my place
she said
for a coffee sometime?
you're married


I said
I’m asking to coffee
not to marry me
she said


I said
be good
and she went off


wiggling that backside
of hers
Hey Benny
old George


called to me
take me to the bog
I'm in need
of a piss


ok George
I’m on my way
and I thinking of Batel
and a promise of a kiss.


View dadio's Full Portfolio


There was snow
and ECTs
and the locked doors
of the locked ward


and Yiska was sitting
by the window
looking at the sunrise
after an almost


sleepless night
looks deep
I said
looking out


at the snow
on the trees and fields
she gazed at me
can't you sleep either?


bits and pieces of sleep
snatches of dreams
or nightmares
I said


I heard you
with that night nurse
during the night
Yiska said


asking her about
going home
you were awake too?
yes I got up for a while


and stared at the snow
coming down
against the moon's light
it looked so peaceful


so surreal
being stuck in here
seems surreal
I said


we'll get out one day
she said
walk out
into the free air


and no quacks or nurses
snooping over you
and no more ECTs
no more darn headaches


and all because
that bastard left me
at the altar
on my wedding day


I looked at her
sitting there
her hair unbrushed
her eyes red


her dressing gown
loose and pulled over
her white legs
gives you time to think


of things you don't want
to think about
and the ECTs
don't help


what they claim
I said
when I woke up that time


after one
of my ECT sessions
my head was heavy with pain
and I saw you


lying on the bed
next to mine
and thought momentarily
we were dead


and I’d woken
in some kind of Limbo
with that white light
coming through cracks


in the shutters
then you woke
and we stared at each other
and never spoke.

View dadio's Full Portfolio


That monk in the refectory
sitting there
reminded me


of old Jack:
same look,
same eyes,


that quiet presence.
The French peasant monk,
cutting back


the hedgerow
with a scythe,
black robed,


humble as cheese,
nods and bows.


I picked apples wrong
in the orchard,
the monk said,


he showed how,
his fine fingers
twisted just so,


pinkish nails,
his dark tight curls


For whom the bells toll
down to the sea and beach?


I tossed stones
across the incoming tide,


than Brother Hugh
(moaning Myrtle)
could reach.


View dadio's Full Portfolio


Christine winds
the necklace
around her


going red
small finger
the small linked


silver chain
swells the flesh
why do that?


the quack asks
to get me
away from


deeper pain
she utters
the quack scowls


his eyebrows
like dark birds
join in deep


signs of non


she unwinds
the necklace
the finger


once again
turning white


she whispers
shoving it
deep within


the cleavage
of her plump
bra-less breasts


the quack stares
like some kid
taken in


by an old
sleight of hand


all gone now
can't see trick
you big prick


she mutters
feeling then
the warm chain


fall between
her closed thighs
sitting there


silver links
shut away
from his eyes.

View dadio's Full Portfolio


It's snowing out,
Christine says,
peering through
the glass


of the window
in the locked ward.
You stand beside her,
staring at the falling flakes,


surreal, chilly, white.
I want to be out in it
like a child, she says,
not stuck in here


like some prisoner.
You can smell her scent,
near by, entering into you,
distracting you. She


presses her palms
against the glass,
breathes on it,
steams it to a small


area of invisibility.
There's a tractor out
in that field, she says,
see it? Yes, you say,


sensing her closeness,
her arm touching yours,
elbow touching elbow.
And those birds look


at them, gulls, rooks,
feeding on the churned
over ground and the snow.
You wonder why


the dick who left her
at the altar could do
such a thing, why he got
that far and then left her


there in her white dress
and flowers and a church
full of people waiting
and then not show and she,


now, stuck in here full of stress
and with a fragile mind.
I want to go out in the snow,
she says, but the nurse


ignores her, walks by,
goes on about some other
business. Why can't we
go out in the snow? she


says to you. Maybe they
think we're going to run off,
you say, watching the tractor's
slow drive, the birds flocking


behind on the ground.
She sighs, puts her hands
down from the glass, holds
them in each other, could do


with a fucking cigarette.
Hey, nurse, got a cigarette?  
Need a smoke, she says.
I got a smoke, you say,


I'll go get them. So you go
to the side room, where
the men are, and bring
your packet of cigarettes


and plastic lighter, and give
her one and light it for her
and light one for yourself,
and she inhales so deep


that she seems to stop
breathing and then exhales
up in the air, holding the
cigarette between her slim


fingers, her hand just so.
And you stand there by
the window watching the
tractor again and the falling


snow, and she's there again,
peering, smoking, sighing.
I'd not have left you at the altar,
you say, I'd not have done


it to you. She says nothing,
the smoke hitting the glass
and flowing inward again,
she gazes out, the tree tops


blanketed in whiteness,
birds in flight, you sense her,
smell her, imagine her.
I wonder who he's fucking


now? she whispers, easing
out smoke, the snow falling,
the tractor pausing, then turning
back up the field, birds following.


She inhales again, looks away,
walks back into the main ward,
her fine ass having that sway,
her white night gown like some


dowdy wedding dress, holding
tightly to her, her figure shown,
the outline of her panties showing,
blue against white. You turn and


watch the snow fall, the tractor
drive, birds in tow, your mind
blank now, white, cold as snow.


View dadio's Full Portfolio