David Subacchi lives in Wales (UK) where he was born
of Italian roots.
~David Subacchi
He studied at the University of Liverpool and his poetry collections
FIRST CUT (2012) and HIDING IN SHADOWS (2014) are with
Cestrian Press. You can find out more about David and his work
YOU WOULDN'T LAUGH
He came on his own
Said it was his first time.
The other ex-offender
Had chickened out
Just couldn't face it.
He spoke without notes
Didn't look much older
Than the schoolkids
Sniggering in rows
Arranged before him.
First arrested at thirteen
Thrown out by parents
Still has no contact
Been in prison
Twice since then.
Life's crap inside
The worst thing
Is loss of freedom.
You have to do
Exactly what they say.
And there are things
That happened that
He couldn't talk about.
He wishes he'd listened
More to teachers
Completed his education.
He has no qualifications
And he's still addicted.
He's trying but it's tough
With marks on your record.
‘You might laugh now’ he told
A big guy in the front row,
‘But you wouldn't laugh
In the places where I've been,
Or in the situation that I'm in’.
WONDERING
Yours hands in mine
My arm around your waist
Head on shoulder
Soft breath warming
Neck and face.
Eyes closed
Another embrace
Long afternoons
In damp houses
Too young to escape.
Smiling patiently
At each interruption
Swallowing
Our frustration.
Counting magpies
In the garden
Listening to how
Nightingales sing.
Wondering always
What tomorrow will bring.
UNBEARABLE
I heard your voice in rainfall
Borne by radio waves
Calling through down pipes
Singing through drains.
But your words were indistinct
I could only guess
At their strange meaning
Flooding my mind.
Hours later still no clearer
Water stands in pools
The surface tension
Unbearable.
~David Subacchi