One (Sarah Crossan)

The Church is a beautiful ruin

It is a collection of stones and rocks tossed around

like children’s building blocks

with a great abandoned bell lying

beneath what was once

its tower.

To get here we creep behind

the science labs,

down broken paths and

through a forest

of flies and brambles.

The Church sits next to

a pond littered with lily pads

and is the sort of place I imagine

fairies lurk,

or serial killers,

though Yasmeen says,

‘Don’t worry,

we won’t get murdered.

We’ve been coming here for years

and no one else knows about it.’

‘We’ll just have a smoke today

and die that way,’ Jon says,

and

takes such a pleasurable drag

from his cigarette you’d think he was

sucking up gold.

And soon they are both puffing away

like old pros.

Yasmeen blows a mouthful of smoke into the sky

then passes me her cigarette.

I shake my head but before I can object,

Tippi has the smouldering cancer-stick

between two fingers and is

inhaling great gulps

of tobacco and tar.

She stops

and coughs

so hard I think she might throw up.

Yasmeen laughs.

Jon scratches his head.

And I gently pat my sister

on the back

when what I really want to do is

let her choke.