I am utterly heartbroken by Victoria Wood’s death.
The shop is closed today.
Babs stares out of the window,
Damp-eyed. Berta is sobbing
On Mrs O’s shoulder
And even she can’t imagine
What God can possibly mean by it.
Outside the canteen,
Phillipa picks at a dangling thread on her blouse.
Twinkle’s lip trembles, Dolly slams the pots into the sink
And Tony can’t look anyone in the face.
At the bus stop, Kelly-Marie and her friend stand silently
And in the pub, Tracy Clegg
Has barely touched her rum and ribena
But Nicola Battersby’s downing
Gin after gin after gin.
In her maisonette
Kitty is putting a on brave face
For the boys from flat five
But her voice is a little too fast
Her smile too tight.
Barry and Freda are holding each other
Under the covers.
Connie and Renie make endless cups of tea; nobody drinks them.
Daft Nellie still looks for her friend.
But Mrs Pugh and Martin Jones
And Pauline and Irene and Vera
Are living and living and living.
Tom Juniper Poetry 