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| tell him that, but no-one this my grandmother was born in brittany her surname translated literally as goat-herd i'd sit with her a candle between us and she'd say: i wish your father hadn't married your mother and your grandfather was a fine man i'd sit with her as the hours flattened and she slept and i'd wonder could i leave or was she dead? she was an occasional prostitute and walked a particular street in the town ( she plied her trade through the colonnade ) one sunday, she dropped and broke her false teeth in the grey veined stone sink she cried, asked me to leave and to tell no-one |
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