Timmy Jones

Draughty rafters, creaks and groans Is it wind or Timmy Jones Not in school nor home in bed Did he roam or lose his head So much time since Timmy passed Neither first nor the last Such reputations can’t be shed Hard to sever ones own head Kiss the pistol-tip instead One shot and the head was dead Now the blackboard’s painted red Why he did it, never said Chief inspector Eddie Shaw Tapped his foot: a hollow floor? Damp and mouldy, rotted through Boards collapsed: inspector too Dusted down then stared in dread A skeleton with severed head Swirling dust a chilling itch On the wall a double switch One did nothing whatsoever Flicked the second, wished he never A concrete floor that’s widely scattered Stains suggesting blood was spattered Fleshless bones with single sever No skulls to be found... ever Black bin liner not the norm A sleeve of this school’s uniform Ed could not ignore its pull The bag of uniforms is full And on a dusty shelf above His hand now sleeved in latex glove No more use to fleshless bones About a dozen mobile phones Demolish, refurbish, which should it be The question considered financially Fix it and paint it and keep it all quiet But people live long and many won’t buy it Caretaker shuts the classroom doors Along those draughty corridors Speaks not much of what was found Under God-forsaken ground But like the school’s a haunted grotto Teachers chant this eerie motto In the basement human bones School kid’s clothes and mobile phones Be this not misunderstood Better that you just be good Or share a room with Timmy Jones And human bones and mobile phones