Eh, you’re worse than me, son!” This from a skinny old woman

Dropping bottles in the bins at Tesco. She had five, but true and

Admit it, I had more than twenty. “Yeah, but you’re bringing them

Once a week; me, once a month,” I said. “Leear, you fling them

every Sunday afternoon, just like me.” “Right enough, Grannie”

I confessed, “So what’s your tipple, Gin, is it?” “Gin my fanny”

She chuckled, “it’s sherry, Bristol Cream, two glasses a day, I canna

Take more. But look at you, bottles of wine, it’s a wonder you’re able

To drive.” “So, you’ll turn down a lift home if I offer? “Maybe aye, maybe

No. it’s a while since a man offered me a lift home.” “If you’re no’

Past it, I am, so you’re safe enough,” I said. “Pity.” She said, “Sure,

It is no fun living on your own.” “Your man?” I asked. “Deid these ten

Years. A fireman, he got that mesothelioma. Terrible.Back then,

they’d no protection. Their hoods an’ gloves an’ capes had asbestos

in them to stop them burning. When they were called out, they’d toss

a coin for first use of the breathing apparatus. He kept working until

retirement although he had the illness ’cause work never killed

anyone, but his mates didna like it, as if he could pass it on. Same

with our own friends. Right enough, the cough would drive him insane

and make him howl like a dog. I prayed for him to die. Fucksake God,

I’d say, do it now. By the time he died, I didna pray any more. Ach it’s not

Good me talking like this to a stranger. It must be your face.” “Yeah

But you’re not a stranger now. Come on, I’ll take you home.” On the way

We were silent, but at her gate, I asked if I could pick her up next

Sunday with her bottles and take her to Tesco. “Na,” she said,

“many thanks, and you’ll probably think this is very strange,

But I’ve been a lonely old bitch for years and I dinna want to change”

 

She was being abused at home, so they put her for safety

Into a residential school in the Scottish borders where she

was abused physically and sexually through her teenage

Years by a man, whom only now she is fifty-one, she can

See found guilty of what he did to her and many others.

Michelle says that she is pleased with justice but still suffers,

Although she has had medical help for what has marred

Her: “You know what? The scars are right in the heart.”

 

Jack is a decent name but not as good as the name

He can’t remember, that was his before they came

And took him from his Inuit parents and gave him

To the McKenzies of Nova Scotia, honest but grim

In their determination to make him Christian. The state

Has paid him compensation but was quick to eradicate

His records. Grinding his teeth has made a graveyard

Of his mouth. You know what? The scars are right in the heart.

 

His bricklayer’s hands were always a dead giveaway

Although the rest of Tam was as feminised as you could pray

For, as a top surgeon had relieved him of his cock and

Balls, substituting a not-quite vagina which was neat. Mock

Breasts would never feed a baby but looked good. The new law

That said born a man therefore always a man, however flawed,

Instructed his hands to take a knife and slice his throat apart.

Messy. But you know what? The scars were right in the heart.