My Place (30th April 2017)

My body
Is a place.
It was built
In 1991 and
It took 9 months
To fully
Construct.
The blueprints
Began in
Youd Street, Leigh.

It has been visited
Worshipped
And trespassed
I usually
Choose who
I open the doors
To
But the guest book
Is messier
Than I'd like.

When I was 4
I tripped on a brick
From some
Building work
Taking place in 1995
On Melrose Avenue, Leigh.
A scuff on my
Right beam
My first ever
Real Scar.

The exterior walls
Are Patterned in
Branches
of white.
Soft walls but strong
Sometimes
Not strong enough
To keep out
The bad weather
I’m not built for.

The rooms smell
Of Perfumes
And scented soap
Masked and
Contained
By the musky aroma
Of cigarettes
Which clings
To the
Curtains.

Some carpets
Are bald
While others
Prickly and coarse
And some
Thick, fine and soft.
I won't embarrass you
By telling you which
Room Is
Which.

In 2003 I began
To give myself
Scars
Although in
2012 the
Records were
Lost
When I began
To give myself
tattoos instead.

Hearts in Blackpool 2012,
Two Bows in 2013,
Rosary beads for a
Christening
in April 2014,
Roses for the rose
Who grew inside me.
And an anchor in 2015
To stop me
Floating away.

But the scars
Remain
Hidden in
The woodwork
But not everything
Is visible
If you hang
Nice enough
Pictures
To cover it.

My body has
Hills and mountains
And eyes that rain
And a mouth
That produces
hot mist
And my windpipe is
The chimney
From where
I expel smoke.

My body is documented
As well as any
Building.
Contractors
Have been
Assigned here
To remove tonsils
To cap teeth
To take biopsies.
To preserve me.

My body has never
Broken any bones
But I hurt my
Wrist once on
a bouncy castle
Before I remember.
So the record
For that only exists
In my mother’s mind
As good as any.

When it is
Sunny there is
Laughter
A giddy happiness
And on cloudy days
Grief and sadness
Echoes through
The vast valley
Which surrounds
My place.

And for a while
I was a home
A warm and safe
Fortress Lived in
By a child
Who grew there
The only real
Visitor
To
My place.