My Family and Other Superheroes Read Online Free

camouflaging speakers,
    a climbing frame lighting rig, a portable
    orchestra pit. Neighbours talked about it
    all afternoon, claimed indifference: the baby
    to put to bed, something on the telly,
    but by half-six, everyone was gathered
    in their best clothes. Money changed hands
    for seats in the front row, while at the back,
    there was something approaching an insurrection
    over whether one arse cheek means possession.
    Quiet settled as the performance time came
    and went, and nothing happened:
    by seven-thirty we were restless and thirsty
    and some fella started hawking cans of beer.
    The first of us stormed the stage an hour later,
    swaying slightly, ready to have a go at
    an a cappella Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,
    got a can to the cranium for his efforts.
    That started it: an industrial speaker
    was put through the butcher’s window,
    a lily was rammed down the vicar’s earhole,
    some kid made monkey bars of the lighting rig,
    until it collapsed and smashed, setting fire
    to the now obviously polystyrene pillars.
    We finished up cracking the stage with our seats:
    all in all, it must have made a sight
    for the workmen who then came around the corner,
    with their mops and brushes, their mirror ball heads,
    speaking no English, whistling to themselves.

Holiday
    Unable to sleep for the fourth night in a row,
    I get up, say Fuck it, drive to the nearest hotel.
    The receptionist looks twice at my pyjamas,
    the hot-water bottle that’s my only luggage,
    but money is money, and business is business.
    The room has a double bed and double pillows.
    The walls are white; there’s a carpet I wouldn’t have chosen.
    I fall asleep before I’ve brushed my teeth.
    It works for a week. Then the porter
    calls me by my name. At four that morning,
    still awake, I look for the Gideon’s Bible, and find
    my address book in its place. The final straw
    is when I hear Room service! at the door.
    Opening it, I find, holding silver trays,
    my wife and daughter, my parents and my boss,
    asking me if this is what I ordered.

On the Overpass
    I like the one above the local bypass,
    my parents’ farmhouse lit up on the hillside,
    traffic rushing under at all times.
    Also, the fence is dead easy to climb,
    the outside ledge just deep enough to stand on.
    Don’t worry. Look, I’m always sure to hold on:
    now with my right hand, now with my left.
    I like that moment when I’m teetering
    and free. This is the second time this week.
    I get so bored. Listen, here’s a lorry:
    it goes Woosh. Then the wind goes Wuh-huh.
    It’s too cold to stay up here for long, really,
    but I like to make up stories in my head:
    is this you, lovely boy, speeding your Corsa
    towards me, your friend in the passenger seat
    big-eyed, looking up now through the windscreen?

Acknowledgements
    Some of these poems have previously appeared in 14, Agenda Broadsheets, Cannon Poets, Cheval, The Frogmore Papers, The Interpreter’s House, Iota, The Lightship Anthology 2, Magma, New Welsh Review, The North, nth position, Obsessed with Pipework, Orbis, Other Poetry, Planet, Poems for a Welsh Republic, Poetry Review, Poetry Wales, The Reader, Red Poets, The Rialto, Roundyhouse, Smiths Knoll, The Stinging Fly and The Warwick Review.
    Some of these poems were included in a collection which won the Terry Hetherington Award in 2010. I am very grateful to Alan and Jean Perry, Aida Birch and Amanda Davies.
    â€˜Evel Knievel Jumps Over my Family’ won second place in the Cardiff International Poetry Competition 2012. ‘Gregory Peck and Sophia Loren in Crumlin for the Filming of Arabesque, June 1965’ was commended in the Basil Bunting Award 2012. ‘Brothers’ won third prize in the Cannon Poets Sonnet Competition 2012. ‘How to Renovate a Morris Minor’ won first prize in the Newark Poetry Competition 2012. ‘Bamp’ was commended in the flamingofeather poetry competition 2013.
    The author wishes to acknowledge