Nit Chat

You slid the nit comb through my hair
then rinsed and laughed about how
you loved hunting them down and
told me that when you were far
too young you were always in the park
climbing the highest trees and once
you fell from an elm and broke your
nose and your mum panicked and
locked you in a cupboard until your
dad got home and as anger
swelled the steel comb rang like
a tuning fork and you mumbled
was she cruel or just stupid?
You rinsed the nits down the sink
then I stood up happy to be rid of them
and as the hairdryer roared I still
heard you whisper
forget it, just forget it.

Paul Bavister has published three collections of poetry with Two Rivers Press, his latest being ‘The Prawn Season’.  He was the contemporary poetry editor for ‘Waterstone’s Guide to Poetry Books’ and helped create the Writers’ Hub at Birkbeck, University of London. His recent poetry has appeared in Neon, Glass and Grey Sparrow Journal.