“F” is for “finding anything that is not paper to draw on!”
At first I was impressed
when you could write the initial letter of your first name.
I proudly watched your face concentrate
the ink into a recognisable shape.
Until I found the 3 lines
in black felt-tip on the beige sofa throw,
the angry chalk crumbs under the kitchen table,
well before I find the “F” marked in a lazy moment
mid-tantrum
beneath one of the chairs.
An “F” embossed on my degree certificate,
frameless since you broke it in a squall
about how the number 8 is not the number 9.
In a flurry on the shopping list
making my trip to Sainsbury’s redundant
as I return with treats and your food,
but forget the toilet rolls, bleach and Vanish.
Your marks will remain until the next trip.
With permanent marker on your arm,
branded on your new super-hero T-shirt
in red paint.
I would be unsurprised to see the letter “F”
emblazoned in the sky,
grown into the flower-bed you helped me plant
or snail-trailed across our lounge carpet.
Sarah L Dixon hosts Post Box Poets, Manchester. She has recently been published in Loose Muse, BOMP3 and YorkMix,. She is taking The Quiet Compere format on a tour of the North in 2014 thanks to Arts Council funding. Find out more here: www.about.me/thequietcompere