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“An wha will mak me fidgin fain?
O wha will kiss me o’er again?”

– Robert Burns (1788)

“Feck thes!” Our breath, clouded. The car’s heater
struggled, even at high — In the back seat

next to the baby-chair, you stripped off your
mittens, pulled your jeans to your knees while sleet

caked the windshield. “Ah got tae gie ye back
tae skale in ‘en minutes, we’ll make it queck.”

Guiding my head down, my shoulders hunchbacked
while your snow-boots pressed into my stomach.

It took you eight; leaving me sick, your cum
in my eyebrows. Even after you cleaned

me up I was a mess all day long —
I’m older now. I’ve heard the joke: “Th’ Mum

an’ Th’ Neighbur Bairn.” The punchline: “Sex-fiends
ur made an’ education isnae wrang.”