Ha Ha Ha


    I didn’t like their album cover
    This was long before we met
    He teetered to his digs after the gig
    Tiptoe boots and a bottom
    I’d’ve Traversed Leeds for. Ha Ha Ha
    A jeer on the back of his jacket
    In red sticky tape. Is that what
    Attracted them?
    He must have been a fan.
    They stopped their van
    Promised they’d see him home
    But swept him over the moors
    To Burnley. More beers, then it goes vague
    The clown punks slurring off, one by one
    Strange possibilities, shunned
    And in the morning, breakfast brought
    By Duncan Disorderly’s mum.
    Never cross the Pennines accidentally.
    Our dark mills will metamorphose you.
    Aged 18, kidnapped by the Notsensibles.
    And they never brought him back.


    Cold Case

    Seal off the bar with tape.
    Bag the wine glasses, take notes.
    Caucasian, six foot, 170 pounds
    Discoloured tooth. She was his mark.
    The table’s processed for fingerprints.

    He’s not on any database, but
    very comfortable around dead relationships.
    Looking closer, the loving couple
    Had a dark side unknown to friends.
    Stumped police have their work cut out.

    They drink each other like Scotch
    Wind up at the African joint after
    His lunch hit the kitchen wall,
    Red spatter revealed by Luminol.
    An attempt was made to clean up.

    His alibis don’t make sense
    His signals bounce off masts
    Miles from his place of work. He fails
    A polygraph. The investigation
    takes another bizarre turn.

    He’s on the psych ward, folded
    Like origami. She’s gone back to him.
    He never opens his eyes, talks baby.
    What they’re about to learn
    Will blow the whole case wide open.

    The weapon was a mobile phone.
    Spent messages were retrieved.
    Eyewitnesses saw them rowing.
    Riddled with lies, she makes it to the
    washroom. He’s already fled the scene.

    How many victims has he claimed?
    This cold case is about to get colder,
    The evidence purely circumstantial.
    Detectives must wait until daylight
    Before they can search for the body.

    Suzi Feay was literary editor of the Independent on Sunday for eleven years and has judged many literary prizes. She has been a writer, broadcaster and critic on a wide range of literary and cultural topics in the UK media.