Poetry from Marc Carver


I went up to the boy and got a ticket for the film.

He told me the name of the film

and I said what other love is there.

Unrequainted he said yea I can’t spell it

but I sure have had plenty of it 

but you know every now and then

you have to chance your arm

the women asked me what I wanted

I said coffee she told me she would make it with love

I said only if it is with requainted love.


I told her that was what marriage is 

watching you screw up your face

like a wild animal

while you put your bra on or your deodorant.

Things that other people didn’t know

but I had seen you do it a thousand times or more

and each time it still fascinated me.

I can steal these things from your life

so I don’t have to live my own

I only wish I had more people to steal from


Part one

I walked into the closing down ladies shop

not sure why went to the back

and saw a row of mannequins. 

I had been after one for a while 

didn’t buy it straight away though 

but knew I would take it home paint her

then I would think about driving around

with her in my car see if anybody would notice 

I even thought about getting some roller skates for her  

and walking around with her.

“HI have you met my friend,”

Yea I could have some real fun with people

with that after all I have to get something

from them and besides I get lonely it good

to have someone to talk to even if they don’t talk back.

Part two

I went into the shop and gave them the money

the young woman asked me if I wanted a receipt

and I said I should be okay.

She pulled it into three parts

and said I can come back for a bit later if I wanted.

I said I should be okay so off

I went through the shopping mall

with the crutch through one hand

and the other around the tits with the base.

I got some strange looks especially from some old women.

Then I wished I got a receipt

they may all think I am stealing her.

I couldn’t help but think if anybody asks me

I can say it is the wife she has gone to pieces.

The arm fell off a couple of times

and she started to get heavy so I had to put her down a few times

as all the kids started to come out of the college

then this bloke came up behind me. “Nice bit of skirt.”

He said. “It is the wife she is going to pieces.”

I said. I got her to the car exhausted and she fell in the back.

“Get up you silly bitch.” I said.

Eventually I got her home but as I got her out of there

she started to fall to  pieces in the street.

“Come on pull yourself together.”

I got her inside before any of the neighbours

could see now she points east in the front room

I hope the wife doesn’t get jealous. 


I walked out the gym late

the woman at reception gave me a wry smile

as I walked out with a towel on my head,

We went to screwfix to pick up the toilet.

I walked in towel still on my head

she and all the butch men started to look at me

staring at the towel. I walked to the counter.

“What is the matter

nobody ever seen a man with a towel on their head before.

“They all looked away and we left with our brand new toilet. 


I met the woman again last night

mostly I have avoided her over the years

the way I avoid everybody.

She told me I looked like a skier

I told her I had been known to ski in my past

but everything was in my past now.

She said she liked my short stories from all those years ago

something that was powerful

that lingered around the coffee table for days.

I told her she was kind but of course she wasn’t.

She was in old people’s care homes with a music group 

breathing new life into the old

keeping them alive just that little bit longer.

She didn’t mention why we had not talked in years.

She had that sense about me that something bad was going to happen

the way a lot of people know even if I didn’t know myself.

Not yet. When she said goodbye she did it with that air

that the conversation was not important to her at all

and off she went.

I wonder if I will talk to her next time if there is a next time


What do you do when you are alone

that is the real question.

I don’t know what others do.

I can sit in silence writing and there is nothing else in the world

but more times than not I do other things.

Things so I don’t have to write

but why I don’t know.

Things so I don’t have to be alone even though

I run from people I walk the other way when I see them.

I avoid them but that makes me lonelier so lonely I can’t even write.

So what do I do stay alone 

run to people pester them into talking to me.

It is not that I am uninteresting

I can laugh and be agreeable

yeah I can be a good guy but in the end I have to lose 

I have to lose 


i want people to tell me about their lives

their stories in that way

I want to be a stenographer of other people’s lives

a chronicler.

My life is not important at all only to tell theirs

but the sick part of it all is I am shy,

I can’t talk to people only when I am thrown into life

but life has not done that lately all it does is keep me here

hiding from everybody.

Sleeping and waiting


I know life is all in the adversity 

the gut wrenching pain of it all

horrific drunkard dancing in the streets

but you get to a stage when you can’t do it anymore

like June said to Henry

you don’t even know what you are.

You are a masochist.

But one day it has to stop

you just can’t do it anymore.

That day is today.