After I was released from prison

It was suggested that I work

In a chip shop in Wolverhampton

It was not much of a job

But I soon became friends

With an Argentinian woman

Who called herself

Artemisia Gentileschi

After the 17th Century artist

I did not know her real name

But did find out that she was a recovering addict

Although she was quite plain and a little overweight

I found her attractive and interesting

But she would not reveal her histories to me

So I tried to impress her with my failed poetry

 

Ghosts 

I am not here

I have been here 

All my dreams 

Are scripted by ghosts

 

Estudiantes

A girl with a red flag 

Was standing by 

A shattered wall 

In the distance 

The first gunshots 

Of the revolution 

Were breaking the silence

 

Frida 

On the day of her wedding 

To Diego Rivera 

Frida borrowed a dress 

From a friend 

Her reception was held 

In the house

Of a photographer

 

These were the only poems I had

As my notebook had been stolen in prison

It was after I had shown her my work

That Artemisia told me that she was married

Which I had suspected all along

As she often chatted on her mobile

When the shop was quiet and the owners absent

I was a little disappointed but I was a realist

As prison strips away everything else

Yet I can say that I was more than a little surprised

When I found out that she had married Sheba

Who had been her prison warder

I am now involved in a community project

Which tries to stop kids from wasting their lives

It has been very successful which is good

But I am still terribly lonely and sad

And am looking for love and companionship

I have been clean for three and a half years now

Which is very important to me as that is what fucked me up

I still write poor poetry as it is a relaxing pastime

David has arranged for a collection of six of my poems

To be published in an ex offenders book of poetry

This has pleased me as you might guess

Although I consider myself a poet only fit for circles

My collection of poems has a somewhat unusual title

 

Sleeping in Nicaragua