Page 10 of The Black Flamingo

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She smiles and hugs me tightly.

I hug her back; I count ten seconds

in my head and then drop my arms

to my sides but Mummy doesn’t let go for

another nine seconds. Nineteen seconds

is the longest hug I have ever had.

On my seventh birthday, after my presents,

Mummy hands me a piece of paper:

Certificate of Name Change, Michael Angeli.

I don’t wanthisname

dragging behind me like a dead dog on a lead,

like toilet roll on the sole

of my new Converse All Stars,

like a shedded snakeskin,

like a second shadow,

like the thick vapor trails

of the Red Arrows,

diesel mixed with colored dye,

making a mark in the sky.

I don’t need a plane because

with my new name I can really fly.

That night

I have a dream

in which Mummy is killed

when a British Airways Boeing 747

crashes into our house.

The left wing cuts through her

bedroom window but I survive.

Would I live with my Uncle B,

Aunty B, or Granny B?

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