Fay and you and the Orange Sun.

Early summer
after school
after low tea
of bread and jam

and a glass of milk
you sat with Fay
on the roof
of the pram shed

of Banks House
and looked up
Meadow Row
watching the sun

slowly going down
on the busy horizon
she clothed
in a grey dress

with black plimsolls
and you in fading jeans
and open necked shirt
and she said

my daddy says
I’ve to learn
the Credo in Latin
by the summer holidays

or there’ll be trouble
what the heck’s the Credo?
you asked
looking at the heels

of her plimsolled feet
hitting the wall
of the pram shed
it’s the I Believe prayer

setting out the items
of our beliefs
in the Catholic Church
why Latin?

you said
noticing fading bruises
on her thighs
as the hem

of her dress moved
as she banged her heels
against the wall
because daddy said so

she said
looking
at the orangey sun
in the darkening

blue sky
I don’t know many prayers
you said
at least

not all the way through
except the ones
they teach us
at school

even then
some of the boys
put their own words in
which I couldn’t

repeat to you
she looked at you
her fair hair
adding beauty

to her pale face
and water colour blue
of eyes
best not to

she said softly
don’t your parents
insist you learn prayers?
she asked

no
you said
my old man
wouldn’t know a prayer

if it came up
and tickled his moustache
she smiled
and looked away

then after a few moments
of silence
she said
the sun looks

like a big orange
on a big blue cloth
doesn’t it?
yes

you said
looking skyward
then watched
the traffic pass by

at the end
of Meadow Row
and the bombsite outline
on the right hand side

and the shadows caused
by the lowering sun
then you lowered
your sight

to the fading bruises
on her thighs
and the watercolour blue
of her bright clear eyes.