My Two Fathers
When my father removes his skin
he steps to one side and tidies
the old skin away with a dustpan and brush.
He wants nothing more
than not to make a spectacle
but my mother insists he fill it with stones.
The stone father is anchored
to the armchair, while the other
goes upstairs to his room in a sulk.
The stone father holds the television control,
orchestrates the night’s entertainment.
The other stays asleep like a bear.
Helen Ivory’s fourth Bloodaxe collection Waiting for Bluebeard is out now. She is also an artist, teaches for the Poetry School, for the Arvon Foundation, is a Poetry Society ‘Surgeon‘ and an editor for The Poetry Archive. My Two Fathers is taken from Waiting for Bluebeard.