Poetry By Kate Young

Gerry Dincher CC




Kerb Crawling


Blue lights strobe the wet sidewalk.
The car crawls to a halt and the officer
approaches. A man’s arms embrace
the teenager, soft breath in her ear.

We are staggering the kerb
the weight of a body slumped 
on my shoulder, sweat on his neck
pale in the smirk of the moon.

The officer asks which streets I work,
what time he picked me up and how much
cash passed hands. Disgust reflects
off his eyes and sinks into puddles.

It’s not what he thinks
but I can’t divulge the heroin
pulsing through my brother’s veins
bought cheap on a city street.

The officer takes my address
along with the lie— dodgy kebab.
It is late and his wife will be waiting
to greet him with that lipstick smile.

We stumble on, sleep could be fatal.
His breath has the erratic wheeze
of old bellows and I squeeze his hand,
the weight of responsibility like a rock.


 


withdrawal 

I pull the belt tight
a blue vein bulges
I pass him the syringe

my room is a pharmacy
this week’s Methadone
hidden among knickers

he accepts my help
he trusts me
he lets me manage him    

sometimes he begs
sobbing and shouting 
a puddle at my feet

I stay strong
hold his hand
pack my schoolbag

​
​

Kate Young’s poetry has been published in journals including Stand, Fly on the Wall, Alchemy Spoon and Poetry Scotland. It can be heard on the Podcast Poetry Worth Hearing. Fear was placed 2nd in The Canterbury Poet of the Year Competition, 2022. Her pamphlets A Spark in the Darkness and Beyond the School Gate have been published by Hedgehog Press.
Find her on X @Kateyoung12poet or her website kateyoungpoet.co.uk